Dawn's Archive

Request Information

Requests will always be open on this blog but of course, I can't guarantee that I will have time to write them with a specific timeframe. There's plenty of factors but mainly, I travel over 2 months of the year usually and work can sometimes be very annoying.

Inspiration is also fickle so sometimes I can crank out thousands of words a day, other times less so.

Rules:

I'm very light on rules but there are one or two things I won't write about:

Smut/Romance Involving Children or Animals (Obvious, yes, but needs saying)

Pregnancy

I do write headcanons, drabbles, and long-form content in pretty much all formats. Smut, angst, and fluff are all welcome.

If you want something multi-chapter, I cannot accept anon asks. I want to talk it over with you properly to get an idea of what you're looking for in terms of plot and certain scenes.

The Poly Series Stuff:

I write a decent amount of poly stuff and I actually really enjoy doing it but if you're asking something with multiple characters, please specify how you want the relationship to be. Like if you have three other characters, are they also in a relationship with each other or just the reader.

Dividers From Saradika-Graphics

The silence stretched unbearably long while you tried to figure out what had brought this on. Hattori cooed softly and you looked toward the bird settled on his chair before deciding that if he was actually intending anything, he likely wouldn’t have mentioned it. Probably.

“Do you maybe want to sleep on the couch tonight then or…?”

“I’m not struggling to stop myself from doing so,” he said. “It’s nothing so instinctual. This is far more practical. Your life is at risk as long as I am here. If I kill you now, the danger will disappear immediately. No need to concern yourself with it any longer.”

“I like the danger,” you said. “It keeps me young.”

“You won’t enjoy it anymore if the wrong person finds out who you are.”

Alright, this conversation wasn’t about killing you then. You recognised the patterns even if the words themselves sounded threatening.

“I suppose I’ll have to learn how to run away then.”

He stood and closed the distance to your sun lounger; his shadow cast long over your legs as you tilted your head back to look up at him. Hattori fluttered over and landed on his shoulder and, for just a second, he looked as he did the first time you met. Terrifyingly cold.

Then you held out your finger and clicked your tongue, calling Hattori over to you instead, breaking the image before it could take root.

He flew over to your hand and you lifted him to your shoulder, letting him puff against your neck where it was still warm. You picked up the orange slice from your drink and held it close so he could peck at the segments.

“If they told me to kill you, running would be ineffective,” Lucci said.

“Would you give me a head start?” you asked.

You were feeling more certain now of what was actually causing this conversation. At least, it didn’t seem he had suddenly developed the urge to take your heart from your chest.

“It wouldn’t matter even if I did.”

“Love,” you said. “You’re being incredibly menacing for somebody trying to hold a normal conversation.”

He breathed out slowly through his nose and then sat beside your knees, one arm resting on the other side of your legs. That was considerably better.

“It’s not unintentional,” he said. “I’m perfectly capable of pretending if you prefer. I could make this conversation much sweeter.” He reached out and ran his finger down the side of your neck, nail sharpening as he did so until it stung. “But sugared words will change nothing.”

“Would they really order you to kill me?” you asked. “Wouldn’t they just ban you from seeing me?”

“If they didn’t tell me to do it, then they would give the instruction to another. I would prefer it to be me. Better something quick than a slow suffocation or the headache-inducing stink of soap.”

You sighed and reached out to catch a stray strand of hair that hung beside his face, tucking it behind his ear. “Normal people worry about that. Not try to beat their colleagues to it.”

“I don’t worry about it.”

“Clearly you do,” you pointed out. “Otherwise, you’d be enjoying your drink and watching me swim in a few minutes. Not considering my murder.”

He watched you steadily before his attention dropped to Hattori who had begun to make a soft, pleased sound now that he’d finished with the orange. You dropped it back into the glass and wondered what was moving behind Lucci’s eyes.

“You would be awful at running away. You’re far too attached to this house,” he said.

You huffed and crossed your arms. “Okay, that’s just not fair even if you’re right. But in my defence, it’s a nice house. It has a pool. Plenty of the others have devil fruits, right? I’ve got my mitigation strategy right here.”

He didn’t appear amused. Then again, he rarely did. Even when he was.

“Kaku has asked where I take absences,” he said. “They are starting to become suspicious even though none of them have dared to follow me yet.”

You smiled. Alright then, so that was what had unnerved him.

You rested your hand against his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek gently. “You’re incredibly skilled, love. I doubt anybody could have tracked you all the way here, even if they tried to. And I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong by having a drink next to the pool.”

“A drink might be seen as evidence of my compromised judgement. Correctly so.”

“So, in response to their hypothetical accusation, you’re hypothetically thinking about killing me to prove them wrong?”

“I’m exploring the extent of the hypothetical accusation,” he clarified. “And I’ve concluded that I can consider your death from certain angles. But not from others. I’m not sure how long it will take for that to change entirely.”

“Hattori would miss me.”

“I think he would be thinner without you feeding him scraps constantly.”

You scratched under the pigeon’s chin and he cooed happily. “I think he’d get even fatter from the depression. I really don’t like the idea of you killing me, by the way. Hypothetically or not.”

Lucci inclined his head to the side. “It will become impossible to consider soon. That’s why I’m debating the option with myself now. While it remains.”

You sighed. “Love, I’m going to ask this as nicely as I can but please stop considering killing me.”

His jaw twitched. A movement so small you wouldn’t have noticed it if your hand hadn’t rested on the side of his face. You brushed your thumb over his cheek again.

“Will it even change anything?” you asked. “There are other ways to get rid of your… what do you always call visiting me?”

“An operational liability.”

“Alright,” you said. “If it is that, you can just decide to no longer visit. What happens then? You stop taking as many free days so people stop suspecting you’re doing something weird. And then what happens? I know I’ll be miserable because I’ll miss you.”

“It’s not as simple as no longer visiting,” he said.

“Why not? Nobody knows I live here.”

“Actually, many do. Every person on this island is accounted for in our data.”

“Nobody that wants me dead knows I live here.”

“Yet.”

You sighed and reached for your drink. The condensation on the glass made it far too slippery, dropping from your fingers. Lucci reached for it the second it moved, steadying it before it could fall.

“Thank you,” you said and he released the stem. “Rather than thinking about if you could or should, I think you should wonder if you want me dead.”

He stared at you for far too long. As though he was thinking about the question from every possible angle before he dared to think of an answer.

“I,” you said as you took a sip. “Don’t like the thought of you being dead. It’s why I worry so much when you’re away. And don’t say you’re more capable than I think because I know but it doesn’t make it less scary.”

“You’re far easier to kill than I am,” he said. “I’ve survived enough to know that death won’t come to me easily. But you’re different. I don’t even need to use my claws to make you bleed.”

You rolled your eyes. “You can bleed too. Don’t act like I’m the only one here with skin… although, maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have your claws because if I did, your back would be mauled.”

He offered you a long, flat stare in return before he answered. “You don’t need claws for that.”

You smiled innocently and nodded. “Exactly. But back to what I was saying. You could kill me but that’s not really an achievement. Plenty of people could kill me if they wanted to. It wouldn’t even need to be somebody who worked with you. But the key thing is that you don’t want me dead which answers your question, doesn’t it?”

“If they want you dead, it will be one of us,” he said. “They would send me. That would be the appropriate response to the attachment. And only if that failed, would they send another.”

“Why would it fail?” you asked.

Another question that went unanswered.

You sighed and put your glass down. “Love, this is a very strange discussion but I am getting the feeling that you wouldn’t want to kill me. And you would miss me if you did.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Really? Not even a little bit?”

He stayed silent for a second before he looked over your shoulder to your house. His attention flicked over the windows before he moved onto the pool and the garden. And then he turned to you, eyes dragging over your body before he met your gaze again.

He still said nothing. He barely seemed to be breathing.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you said.

You leaned forward to kiss him and that, he responded to. His hand closed around the back of your neck, firm enough to hold you still without forcing you closer. His lips tasted faintly of blood, the familiar rust of a bitten cheek. He’d been thinking hard enough to nip his cheek again.

“How about, while I swim, you think about what you want for dinner instead?” you requested.

Dinner went normally but later that night, you awoke at an ungodly hour with the bed cold beside you.

Lucci had lain beside you as you fell asleep like he normally did but he couldn’t have remained for long. The blankets were heavy over you and the sheets smooth under your skin as you sat up.

He stood beside your bedroom window, unmoving, as though you’d bought a brooding statue and propped it against the glass.

“Go back to sleep,” he said.

Instead, you sat up and squinted past him toward the moonlit garden. The pool caught strips of silver between the hedges, its surface breaking whenever the breeze moved over it. Leaves whispered against one another near the far wall. Nothing shifted with enough purpose to explain why he stood fully dressed beside the window.

You curled your legs under you and stretched dramatically before you got up, blanket still hanging over your shoulders.

“I have a fox problem,” you said. “My neighbours keep birds and… they somehow keep finding food here. If you heard something moving, it was probably them.”

“I saw them,” he said. “There are two. Their den is at the far corner of the garden.”

“Aw,” you said, shuffling closer to look past him though you couldn’t even make out that corner of the garden. “That’s adorable. Maybe I’ll get to see some babies soon.”

Hattori cooed from Lucci’s shoulder and you reached out to rub his head. You really hoped this sudden vigil at your window didn’t have anything to do with the conversation from earlier. As many things as you’d grown used to in this relationship, discussing your death unnerved you.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Too early for you to be awake.”

“Then that’s too early for you too,” you said. “We can sleep in tomorrow but you don’t sleep enough as it is.”

“I sleep more than enough for function.”

“No, you don’t.”

He looked at the blanket on your shoulders briefly before he returned to watching the sleeping garden. His expression was unreadable but his eyes lingered on every reflection of light or brush of the wind.

His clear unsettlement was enough to make you nervous too.

“Do you really think there’s a threat out there?” you asked.

“It’s always a possibility.”

“What’s the chance you missed something?” you asked.

“Less than a percent.”

That was more reassuring though not quite enough to shake the unease from your limbs. So, instead of having him stand guard at your window, you decided to move somewhere more comfortable.

You reached for his hand and he did turn. His fingers didn’t even twitch. You pulled lightly and he followed you, shoes clicking against the ground.  

You led him downstairs into the eerily still heart of the house. The living room windows stretched from floor to ceiling, giving him a clear view of the garden and front entrance. Lucci took the corner of the couch with his back to the wall, eyes moving once over every doorway and dark reflection. You tossed a pillow onto the opposite end and sprawled across it.

“At least you can be somewhat comfortable now,” you muttered. “And you can see the whole garden much easier.”

He nodded. You stretched out onto your back and Hattori fluttered over almost immediately. The pigeon positioned himself on your chest, puffing up as he settled atop the blanket you’d wrapped yourself in.

You sighed as he shifted to get comfortable.

“If I roll, don’t let me crush him please,” you said.

“He’ll move before then.”

Your eyes were beginning to drift closed already. You snuggled into the couch, promising yourself you would return upstairs once you got too close to sleep. A lie so obvious, you couldn’t even pretend to believe it.

Hattori made a soft sound and you reached up to scratch him once more before you fell asleep.

Lucci was gone by the morning.

You’d had an idea that he would be. Sometimes, despite his best efforts, he was predictable.

It still disappointed you. He had at least three more nights before he had to return and yet the house looked untouched by anybody other than you. Not even a speck of dirt lingered in the halls. You tried to shake the slight melancholy from you with breakfast, bringing out the remaining scraps to leave for the foxes.  

Maybe you should stop doing that. But if they were going to be in the garden, it was nice to know they weren’t starving.

You paused when you saw a pawprint in the dirt outside.

Interesting.

You knelt beside it, fingers brushing over the mark. It wasn’t Lucci’s. He almost never transformed near you (one accidental waking to golden fur aside) but you knew with absolute surety that he wouldn’t leave prints.

You followed the path of them through the bushes, surprised to find yourself nervous. He was rubbing off on you too much.  

A very big nose popped out next to you and your heart stopped for only a second before you laughed. The dog was adorable, soaking wet, yet clearly very happy to see you. And you already knew where he’d come from.  

“Have you gotten out of your house to steal my foxes’ treats again?” you cooed.

You brought him inside and tossed a towel on the furniture as he clambered up there, lounging like he belonged. You laughed, scratched his ears, put out a bowl of water, and went over to call your neighbour who apologised far more than was needed.

It was the type of banal moment you wouldn’t have bothered remembering. Wouldn’t have cared about.

If you hadn’t woken that night to a loud cooing next to your ear.

Hattori sat on your pillow, chest practically pressing against the bridge of your nose, cooing loudly enough to drag you awake. You startled for a moment when you saw Lucci’s silhouette against the wall, still and unmoving.

“Hello,” you mumbled. “I thought you left.”

“I had planned to.”

“And then?” you asked.

“I came back to ensure there was sufficient security around your house. It seems there is not. I will arrange for somewhere to be set up for you on a different island. You may pack one bag.”

You blinked. “Love,” you said. “It’s like three in the morning. Can we move a little slower on why I’m moving?”

“It’s for your safety.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“I knew you would say that.”

“Okay…”

You sat up and Hattori immediately flew to the warmth where your head had been. Little traitor. He hadn’t woken you up for any other reason.

“There is a distinct animal presence here that doesn’t fit any of the known creatures that visit you. I’ve checked but you must realise that this isn’t the time for wants.”

You frowned. “What animal presence?”

“Downstairs.”

“Was it dog-like?”

“Yes.”

“Then it was the dog that showed up this morning. I brought it inside before calling its owner.” You lifted the pillow with Hattori still on it and put it to the side. Then you took what was effectively meant to be Lucci’s pillow to flop your head onto. “I would have told you but… well, you had left.”

He was silent for a deadly length of time. Long enough that you almost fell back asleep before you opened your eyes and found him sitting on the bed next to you.

You almost jumped out of your skin.

“Don’t do that!”

He remained quiet before he spoke. “Distance was ineffective. While I was here, I considered your death only when I chose to. Once I left, the thought became persistent.”

You rubbed at your chest, heart still pounding from the scare. “Alright. See, I think that’s more of a sign that you would miss me.”

“This dog-incident has created a further problem,” he said. “Aside from the knowledge that you are immune to how foul dogs stink.”

“I threw the towel in the wash,” you said.

“The problem remains that I assumed a threat.”

“Well, I mean, you could have asked if I’d noticed a dog inside my house,” you said. “And I would have told you. Also, sorry, I did forget that you would be able to smell it but I also didn’t think you’d come back so soon. Normally you stay away for weeks at a time.”

“That’s when I’m working.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “I’ll deep clean better next time.”

“The smell is not truly the issue,” he said. “The dog could have been one of us and you invited it in. Jabra looks fairly convincing as a common cur when he has fully transformed if you ignore his bulbous nose.”

“If it was one of your coworkers, would they really have needed an invitation?” you asked.

“No. But it remains far too easy to get past your senses. You must ensure you never let them.”

“I don’t know what your coworkers look like,” you defended yourself. “Transformed or not. You can’t ask me to keep them out when I’ve never met them.”

“You aren’t entirely wrong.”

“I know,” you said, putting a hand on his cheek. “Now come love. You clearly haven’t slept and there’s no danger right now.”

“You only have one pillow.”

“I can sleep on your chest?”

“No.”

You sighed and shuffled up, moving Hattori closer to the right side so there was enough space for you to share the pillow. You’d known the cuddling option was a shot in the dark. Cuddling apparently kept him too restricted.  

Lucci remained still for a minute longer before he lay down on his back, shoulders always purposefully relaxed and hands folded in front of him. You often told him he slept like a corpse.

You should have known that wasn’t the end of it.

When you woke, the bed had been replaced by the slow pull of a hammock beneath your spine.

Rope creaked overhead. Somewhere beyond the narrow cabin, water slapped against wood in a steady rhythm, and the air tasted faintly of salt and old varnish. Panic arrived before the rest of you did. You bolted upright, sending the hammock swinging around your hips.

“You’re safe.”

You looked toward Lucci, heart screaming in your chest and patted yourself down, realising you were fully dressed in one of your favourite outfits. Confusion and panic mixed into the strangest cocktail of emotions as you stared at your clothes.

A slow look around revealed the inside of a boat and you allowed it to come together before you gave a perfectly reasonable response.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m not forcefully moving your home. Don’t worry about it.”

“You better not be. What is this? You couldn’t have woken me up?”

“You’ve already been woken two nights in a row.”

You swung yourself out of the hammock, boots landing on the ground as mild annoyance (mild being an understatement) overrode the fear. “You can’t just kidnap me! Where are we even going?”

“I’ve made arrangements,” he said. “We’ll be home before dinner. I ensured we left early enough that your day won’t be ruined.”

“What if I was going to do something?”

“You never plan things while I have free time,” he said.

He… he had a point. But still.

“That doesn’t mean you can abduct me,” you said. “I probably would have said yes if you’d just asked to go somewhere.”

“Then there’s no change to the outcome.”

You glared at him, boot tapping on the ground when he nodded toward a basket sitting beside your hammock. You offered it only a quick glance but didn’t reach for it.

“You have breakfast in there.”

“You… I… Why is it kill me or kidnap me? Why is there no go on a beach walk with me?”

“That can happen. But it requires you eating. This should not take long.”

“What is this?”

“I will explain more when we are safely away from potential eavesdropping. Now eat. There’s a walk once we’re off the boat and seeing as you object heavily to me carrying you, I will expect you to keep up.”

You crossed your arms. “I only object when you carry me without asking first.”

“You don’t object when I kiss you without asking first.”

“Very different things.”

But breakfast was good. Good enough that you forgave him enough to share half but not good enough that you didn’t purposefully give Hattori bites while daring Lucci with your eyes to comment on it.

He didn’t.

You stuffed extra bread into your jacket pocket before you left, fully planning on feeding Hattori throughout the walk to extend the annoyance.

You had no idea what island you stopped on. It seemed almost entirely uninhabited with a hill that you just knew he was going to make you climb. You gave him a look but at least he’d chosen appropriate walking boots when he’d dressed you without telling you.

It was sweet, in a weird way. It was also annoying, in a sensible way.

The boat sailed off and you had to wonder how he had organised all of this before the sun even rose.

You hated the walk. Not because it was uncomfortable but because apparently, your concept of a path and his were very different things. You preferred your ‘paths’ with fewer roots reaching for your ankles and spider webs hanging between tree trunks. Lucci did show you the best places to walk but his legs were considerably longer than yours and you were huffing slightly to try to follow him.

“So, what are we doing?” you asked when you were far enough from the coast.

“Taking pre-emptive action. If any of my colleagues wish to report the problem with you, I’m giving them full information and the chance to do it now, before it becomes impossible for me to control.”

“What?” you asked.

“It’s the easiest solution.”

“Does that mean…”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Do not touch Jabra. Even as a dog. You will not get the smell from your clothing and it’s bad enough that you already have the stink of one mutt in your house.”

You frowned. What? Surely he hadn’t…

He had. He absolutely had.

Sure enough, at the top of the hill, you stopped dead when you noticed there were far more people here than there should have been for an otherwise uninhabited island. Six of them, to be exact, some seated and others standing beneath the trees, all staring at your entrance with obvious confusion.

“Really?” you asked. “Not even a heads up so I could prepare an introduction?”

“You had appropriate time to prepare yourself when you realised during the walk.”

“I was trying to keep up.”

Lucci inclined his head briefly and then turned to the others. “This is the situation,” he said. “If any of you intend to report this, do it now. I will not tolerate hesitation later.”

There was silence, broken only by the sound of a bird fluttering somewhere in the trees. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Hi, by the way,” you said to the group. “Nice to meet you all.”

The silence continued a beat too long before the one man who’d been staring flabbergasted at you suddenly stood up. “You called us on our day off for a woman? Who’s replaced you?”

“Fascinating,” the blonde woman said.

“This is the reason for your unexplained absences then?” asked another man with ginger hair.

“They’re not unexplained,” Lucci said. “I have no reason to justify where I go.”

You sighed. “We could have done this at home. I have room to entertain.”

“No.”

“Chapapa, Lucci’s taken more time off than ever before. Seventeen in the past –”

“Enough,” Lucci said.

“I’m Kaku,” the ginger man said, extending a hand and you shook it, grateful for some normalcy in whatever this situation is. “Sorry for the shock. I don’t think any of us expected an introduction today.”

“Pleasure,” you said. “And don’t worry, I didn’t even expect to leave the house today.”

You shot a look at Lucci who didn’t bother responding.

“You will need to show her your transformations,” he continued. “For identification purposes should you decide to remain quiet.”

Kaku released your hand and frowned. “Our… is she approved to know that kind of information?”

“No.”

“I see what this is!” The white-haired man’s voice was considerably louder than you expected and you startled. “It would seem our fearless leader has been caught by the most dangerous –”

“Quiet,” Lucci said. “This is not a social gathering.”

“Why have you brought a civilian woman here?” the woman asked, adjusting her glasses. “I imagine if this was something work-related, we would have done it during work hours.”

“Or in a formal setting,” said the only other man who hadn’t said anything yet. He was quite tall, his hair shaped up into horn-like structures.

“As I said, she must see your transformations so she has an accurate understanding of what you all look like. In the situation where one of you might be ordered to kill her, it would be best if she understood what she was seeing.”

An awkward quiet stretched over the clearing. You took the opportunity to look over the group, curious about their unusual appearances. You had imagined Lucci’s colleagues to be far more like him and far less interesting than they actually were.

“Ordered to kill her, chapapa?” the man with the zip on his mouth asked.

“That’s the logical conclusion of what will happen if any of you choose to report the lapse.”

“Lapse is a hurtful one,” you said. “Situation was already pushing it.”

He glanced at you. “It’s accurate.”

“If we have a chance of being given orders to kill her,” Kaku said. “Would it not make more sense to preserve our secrecy? We haven’t even been formally reinstated yet.”

“And I don’t normally give away information to targets,” the woman added.

“She is not a target yet,” Lucci said. “So that is not a problem.”

“You’re very calm for a woman whose future is being discussed in front of her,” said the horned man as though he finally remembered you were present. Unlike the others. “Most are not as open to the possibility of death.”

“He was considering killing me yesterday,” you said. “I’ve had this conversation already. And as he said, it’s not an order yet. I’ll hold onto that.”

You couldn’t deny there was still a strange thump in your chest as you connected the two. Your nerves crept higher, making your clothes uncomfortable as fear curled next to you. But Lucci was standing next to you and you trusted he probably wouldn’t let the others make the decision lightly.

“Threatening her directly was unnecessarily crude,” the woman said.

“I know, right?” you agreed.

She smiled. “Kalifa. Has he told you our names? Or was that courtesy not provided?”

“I know that at least one of you can appear to be a dog,” you said. “But not much else. Classified information and all.”

“Wait? Why would you know that?!” another man snapped at you. “That’s just as classified!”

“You’re Jabra?” you asked.

“Yes! What do you mean a dog?! I am not a dog!”

“Before we get stuck on that,” Kaku said. “As much as I do think formal introductions should happen, I would like to establish the actual situation first.”

“Yoyoi! Is it not obvious?”

“No, it really isn’t,” the horned man mentioned. “Suspicious, yes, but not obvious.”

You looked to Lucci because really, this was his discussion to have. If he wanted to tell them then he could and you had a feeling he might not want to disclose it. If only because –

Hattori clearly took you looking at him as an invitation. He flew over and landed on your shoulder. He leaned his head against your neck and began to sink down as though he was collapsing slowly. Shame. Poor thing was starving.

“Do not.”

“He’s hungry,” you said.

“He is not. He is merely performing because he knows you are weak.”

You reached into your pocket and took out the bread. You didn’t look away from Lucci as you offered it to Hattori, who immediately swallowed the whole thing as though it might be snatched away. Lucci’s gaze narrowed in warning.

“You kidnapped me. I’m feeding him.”

“You kidnapped her?” Kalifa asked.

“She would have agreed to come regardless.”

“Yes but that’s not the point,” you huffed.

Kalifa shrugged. “Oh, if you would have agreed, it’s merely efficiency.”

You sighed.

Right. You did forget Lucci wasn’t alone in his strange behaviours sometimes. He had mentioned the majority of the others had been raised in a similar environment… But that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

“Kaku can begin,” Lucci said. “Though I would hope you would not allow random livestock into your house to start with, it’s important to be certain.”

“Lucci,” Kaku said. “I don’t know about this.”

“It’s important.”

“For what?”

“Okay, you know what, no. I am proving I do not look like a dog.”

Jabra stood up off the log he’d been sitting on and his body shifted. You almost startled, entirely unused to seeing a person randomly become an animal. He dropped down into a very large and very obvious wolf that looked nothing close to your neighbour’s pet. Grey fur bristled over his shoulders as he straightened, his lip curling back to bare massive canines.

You swallowed and looked at Lucci. “That is very clearly a wolf.”

“You allowed an unknown dog into your house.”

“Not unknown,” you said. “And also, not a very obvious wolf.”

Jabra shifted back into a mildly annoyed man and dropped back into his seat. “Exactly.”

“Yoyoi! I do not have a transformation to show and I am feeling very left out! But I can provide a different display!”

Kaku cleared his throat. “Kumadori, wait a moment. Jabra and I are the only ones with transformations she hasn’t already identified,” he said. “And, no offence, but I don’t think we would particularly need to use them to get close to a civilian woman if you believe we may need to kill her.”

“She can see both forms here,” Lucci said. “She now knows what each of you looks like.”

“Which might be a security breach, actually,” Kalifa pointed out. “I understand Fukurou doesn’t fit in to begin with but the rest of us might prefer to keep our appearances more hidden.”

“And we don’t even know why the reveal is occurring,” the horned man mentioned. “Nor who she is.”

“Blueno’s got a good point,” Jabra said. “Now that I think of it.”

“Kaku would stand out more transformed than as a man, chapapa,” Fukurou said.

Kaku nodded. “I would.”

“What can you become?” you asked. “Sorry if that sounds rude but I’ve heard a decent amount about the wolf but never about you.”

“I…” he paused. “That is technically classified information.”

“Isn’t your existence that?”

“Yes. That’s part of the problem with you being here.”

“He’s a giraffe,” Fukurou said eagerly. 

Kaku looked over his shoulder in disappointment. “Very good secrecy. Thank you.”

“That’s why we zip his mouth closed most of the time,” Blueno said and he sounded slightly amused.

“A giraffe?” you repeated. “Love, why the hell do you think I’m stupid enough to invite a random giraffe into my living room. That’s not a common animal to find in my garden.”

Lucci shrugged. “There’s a possibility for every situation.”

“Like… like a full-sized giraffe?” you asked. “I don’t even think that would fit through my doors.”

“Well once he transforms, you will know how to distinguish him from others who look similar.”

“I haven’t even seen you become a leopard properly.”

“I wouldn’t need to use that form.”

“Neither would they, I’m sure.”

The rest of the group had fallen very quiet. Suspiciously so. The clearing felt charged, their expressions far more obviously shocked now. Enough that you started running back over your thoughts in case you’d said something incriminating and –

“I warned you of that nickname,” Lucci said. “For situations exactly like this. It’s hard to hide your attachments when you throw them about so casually.”

You frowned, confused, for a moment.

Oh. Right. You called him love.

“Well, you’ve never told me I couldn’t use it. If I listened to all your warnings I would have moved like four times.”

“And you would be untraceable for it.”

“I don’t want to be untraceable. You still need to visit.”

He straightened. “Nothing in this world is untraceable to me. My earlier recommendation still applies. You should see what Kaku can disguise himself as in case he is the one they ask to kill you.”

Kaku cleared his throat. “I do think this conversation should have had a lot more context,” he said.

“Love?” Jabra repeated, his expression curling. “Woah. No. Just, absolutely not.”

“Ah, my point has been proven!” Kumadori declared. “I knew from the moment she arrived that this was not a relationship of convenience! For if so, the emotion bleeding between them would not be as fraught as it is. We have arrived –”

“Enough,” Kalifa said and he paused, looking thoroughly agitated at being interrupted again.

Though admittedly you appreciated each person that did it.

“I see the reason for the concern then,” Blueno mentioned, stepping away from the tree line to move closer. “You fear repercussions for this liability. But I don’t understand how this will help. If she is marked for elimination, for whatever reason, her knowing what we look like will not fix that. It will simply give her a name to know as she dies.”

Lucci said nothing and the discomfort in your stomach curled tighter. It was true. You could recognise them but it wouldn’t be helpful unless you had somewhere to run. Somewhere you could hide.  

“I doubt she’d even have time to know it happened,” Fukurou said.

“You’re all very reassuring,” you told them.

“We’re trying to understand the reasoning,” Kaku said. “You’ll forgive us for pointing it out but it’s true. I would not arrive as a giraffe. I would not need you to let me into your house.”

Lucci looked at each of them carefully. “She would be able to tell me. In case the orders were given without my knowledge or without the approval for you to inform me first.”

“And then what?” Kalifa asked. “You know so that you can hold one of us accountable for the rest of our lives?”

“Or kill us in return?” Jabra asked.

Lucci remained silent. You scratched Hattori’s head for lack of anything else to do, redoubling your attention on the bird rather than whatever situation you were standing in the middle of right now. At least he was one creature not considering how quickly your death would come. Probably because he would mourn the lack of snacks.

“This situation doesn’t exist yet,” Lucci said. “But should it happen, I want to be aware of it. My actions will be decided in the moment.”

“You’ve been compromised,” Kaku said.

“I already established that. This discussion occurred because of that fact.”

“I thought it was because I let a random dog into my house,” you said.

“That merely allowed the acknowledgement,” Lucci established. “I assumed a danger and searched for an attacker without knowing there was one. The dog allowed me to acknowledge the full extent of my corrupted judgement.”

Kalifa looked you over. “So, if they ask for her to disappear, you’re saying we move through you first?”

“A rite of recognition for both sides!” Kumadori cried. “She learns the faces of death, and we learn whose wrath awaits should her name ever appear in our orders! Truly, I couldn’t imagine a more dangerous and tragic relationship, swaying by a thread!”

“I’m not in danger,” you said. “It’s a hypothetical. Right?”

“It is currently,” Lucci said. “And it will remain that way.”

His words were firm enough to ease some of the anxiety from your chest. It loosened the coil that had been there since yesterday. He’d made his choice then. All the worrying and now… it felt strangely comforting even though you knew you shouldn’t have to concern yourself about this to begin with.

“Fine,” Kaku said and he took several steps back. “I don’t need to tell you how dangerous this is. But fine.”

His body shifted, rising so quickly that you stepped back on instinct. Heavy hooves struck the earth, sending dust rolling across the clearing as long, powerful legs lifted him above everyone around him. You had known giraffes were large. You had not understood how large until his shoulders towered over you and his neck stretched high between the trees.

He flicked his head, the movement cracking sharply through the air, then scraped one hoof through the dirt.

“That’s… that’s actually really cool,” you said.

He transformed back immediately, straightening his clothes. “Thank you. Now if you ever see a random giraffe, I suppose you’ll know it’s me.”

“I probably could have guessed,” you admitted.

“Shocking.”

“I will not pretend that this meeting didn’t occur,” Lucci said. “But if one of you speaks about it as mere gossip, I will remove their ability to do so.”

They all turned their heads to Fukurou who made a show of zipping his lips. You had a feeling that wasn’t enough.

By the time you reached the shore, the boat had already returned for you. You actually found you were decently close to your home island. You’d assumed Lucci had organised it all to be far away but it only took an hour’s ride and he sat in silence the whole time.

You didn’t quite know what to say either. Whether to thank him for introducing you to his coworkers or to complain about the sheer number of death threats.

Or to appreciate the somewhat official confirmation that he would stand between you and the others.

That was something you didn’t quite know how to handle.

So instead, you waited until you got home before you said, “I’m going to take a swim. It’s far too hot.”

He inclined his head toward you. You leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and went to change.

After hiking a hill unexpectedly, the water felt refreshing against your skin. You lingered under the surface, stress of the morning washing from your skin as you swam the length with slow kicks.

Only to come up on the other side, open your eyes and immediately meet a pair of yellow irises.

A leopard sat only a few feet away, close enough that you could see the slow rise of its chest beneath golden fur. Black rosettes disappeared over its shoulders and down powerful forelegs, ending in paws large enough to cover your face. Its tail flicked once behind it, but the rest of its body remained unnervingly still.

It was Lucci. You knew that.

Your body did not care.

“Fuck!” you spluttered.

The leopard rose. Muscle shifted beneath its coat as it padded toward the bar, each step silent despite its size. Its tail swept behind it before the animal disappeared, replaced in a second by the man you knew so well.

“Would you like a drink?”

You stared at him blankly for a moment, confused about what prompted that until your brain began to put things together. The earlier praise of the others and your request to see his transformed state.

“Yes, please,” you said. “That was terrifying, love.”

“It should have been.”

“Gorgeous though. Puts both of the others to shame.”

He hummed and you heard satisfaction seeping into his voice. You might regret feeding the ego of a man who was already so arrogant.

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind too much.

Izou didn’t even complain about the sudden proximity. He shifted his arm to allow Ace closer to your side.

“I suppose you are useful like this.”

The snow melted before it reached Ace, while what had gathered on Izou’s shoulders began to bead into water. He flicked the droplets off with a deep lack of impressment.

Ace nodded and took your hands between his own, his skin warming through the iciness that had claimed your fingers. “Fire’s always useful,” he said.

“Not always,” you joked. “Especially not when it’s blazing a little too hot near my cupboards.”

“Hey, that was entirely your fault,” he defended himself. “I haven’t accidentally set fire to anything in ages unless you’re there.”

“Me?” you asked. “Whatever could I have done?”

“You know what you do.”

Thatch knocked snow off the seat next to Izou and dropped down there; his nose and cheeks flushed red from the cold. He looked exasperated.

“Your division truly can’t stand without you for a single night?” Izou asked.

“There’s mould in the storeroom,” Thatch said. “They haven’t moved far from our original course, so this is still the nearest port. Given the arctic climate though, I’m not sure there’ll be enough.”

He looked to you and you shrugged as best you could without dislodging anybody.

“It is a trading hub,” you said. “I chose it for that reason. There might at least be some food though whether enough for the whole Moby Dick...”

“We also mustn’t put off your situation for long,” Izou warned.

“We can look for food this evening and I’ll head out in the morning,” you said. “I wasn’t going to go today anyway. Do you want to tell…?” You nodded toward the sky.

“Probably should,” Thatch said. “If he ever comes down from there.”

Ace tipped his head back and yelled, “Oi! Marco!”

You startled slightly and he smiled apologetically. You supposed that worked too. Probably faster than hoping Marco would fly down.

For a very long time, you didn’t think Marco was going to bother acknowledging the shout. Or you worried it was lost by the wind. He wasn’t in his hybrid form either but after an awkwardly long time of you all watching him, he swooped lower and landed in a pillar of flame on the deck.

“Why are you all sitting in the cold, yoi?” he asked. “Three of you are susceptible to hypothermia.”

“I have Ace,” you said, actively making sure your voice was normal. “I’m sure he can protect me from frostbite.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Ace said.

He cupped his hands over your arms to warm them up too, gaze focused like he had an important mission. You had to fight to keep yourself from leaning into the warmth, unsure how Marco was feeling after the morning.

He looked everywhere except at you or Izou. Snow gathered over his shoulders while he remained just beyond the warmth around the table, close enough to join and far enough to pretend the distance was accidental.

Izou moved his arm minutely closer to Ace who noticed and immediately created a separate fire in one of his hands and held it out as an offering.

“I can make enough for everybody,” he said, looking over his shoulder to Marco.

Marco’s expression remained carefully steady. “Keep the others warm first. I can produce fire just as well.”

Ace frowned. “But yours doesn’t work like mine?”

Marco didn’t answer and you glanced up to the sky where he’d been flying, wondering if he had been slowly freezing himself while doing so. You’d assumed he was warm enough otherwise why would he stay there but…

“We’ve got an issue with the storeroom back on the Moby,” Thatch said, leaning over the table to extend his hands toward Ace’s flames. “Mould outbreak. I think we need to see if this island can offer us supplies as a holdover but after that, we’ll need a proper restock.”

The moment Thatch mentioned the storeroom, something in Marco settled. His shoulders eased and his attention sharpened.

“How much have we lost?”

“Not enough for an actual emergency,” Thatch said. “They’ve already thrown out nearly a week’s worth, and there’s a good chance they’ll lose more. I’d rather have a backup.”

Marco nodded. “There’s too much ice in the water for the Moby Dick to get too close. The ship is no icebreaker, yoi.”

“I can take care of the ice,” Ace said. “Easily.”

“No need,” Marco said. “There’s too much and it would be a waste of your energy. I think smaller boats running supplies will be a better option. Especially if this town doesn’t have a large port or has too many of the usual types from underground markets.”

“We don’t have to worry about that when everybody’s there. Nobody would mess with Pops.”

“Nobody? Because I know a certain somebody who tried to kill him around a hundred times.”

“That was different.”

Marco huffed the smallest laugh. “They might try to take advantage of the situation rather than launching a full-scale attack. I almost never worry about that. It’s better to take the safest route for now.”

He shivered, the faintest movement but one that you weren’t alone in noticing. Ace melted the snow on the spot next to him and gestured for Marco to take it.

Marco paused, glancing toward the seat. For a moment, you really wished he would sit, if just so you could make sense of the strange atmosphere between you. To try and break the ice forming over the group.

Of course, he didn’t.

“I can scout the island to make sure there aren’t obvious threats,” he said. “Thatch can head in to get an understanding of what they have available and the rest of you can handle the original mission.”

“I’m going to wait until tomorrow,” you said. “That’s my original plan.”

“You’re already running low. Waiting gains you nothing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“There’s no reason to test that.”

“Marco,” you said and his name came out sharper than it was meant to, by habit more than anything else. “I appreciate the worry but I’m going tomorrow.”

He stared at you for a second too long, the silence almost colder than the wind. Then he nodded and opened his wings. Blue light spread across the grey afternoon before his wings beat once and he returned to the sky.

“I’ll bring us into port,” Thatch said. “If you don’t have any plans, sugar, do you mind if I steal you? You know the layout of this place best.”

“I’d love to,” you said. “I just need to get ready.”

You moved as though to shift free and Izou’s arm tightened around you. You paused, looking to him and he tilted your chin slightly closer. His lips curved faintly upward as you waited patiently for him to say something.

“Would you like me to do your makeup before you leave?” he asked.

“I would love that,” you said. “Shall we move downstairs?”

“No. If you bring me my things, I’ll make do here.”

You frowned, momentarily confused at that. Izou’s irritation with the snow should have driven him inside the second you offered. He smiled at your faint confusion and leaned in to give you a sweet, frozen kiss.

Ace followed you down into the rooms and you appreciated the company as you collected Izou’s products carefully.

“This room’s way smaller than your one,” he said as he looked around at the two tight bunks and the hammock.

“I know,” you said. “That’s what I was warning everybody about. I have no idea how they’re all comfortable in here.”

“Suppose they have to be. But I’ve seen smaller.”

“The women’s bunks on the Moby are also quite crammed,” you admitted. “Though I imagine the men’s are worse.”

You lifted Izou’s bags and began to delicately remove what you knew he wanted.

Ace nodded but his grin looked a little too mischievous. “But if you ever want to stay somewhere bigger, my cabin’s always open.”

“Oh?” you asked. “Rather forward of you?”

He laughed. “Not even close to half the stuff you do.”

“What could you possibly mean?” you asked. “I’m completely innocent and always very well-behaved. Especially when it comes to you.”

He scoffed and suddenly caught you, pulling you back into him. You stumbled a step back, shoulders meeting his chest as he wrapped around you. He pressed a small kiss to the side of your neck and you laughed.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said with a smile, “This is fine, Ace.”

“Tomorrow I’ll come with to keep you warm,” he said and the heat from his chest had you settling back against him, comfortable there.

You hummed. “I look forward to it. Thatch probably won’t keep me out long today and then I’ll be back. Stay warm for me?”

He laughed. “Don’t have much of a choice.”

“Mm but it’s nice to ask.”

When you returned to the deck, Izou had drawn his coat tightly around himself and brushed the bench nearly clean, though a fresh dusting of snow already clung to his hair and shoulders. His mouth tightened when another flake landed near his eye. You smiled and held your warm hands against his cheeks, hoping to chase some of the cold away.

He smiled at the gesture but before you could sit, he caught your hip.

You tilted your head curiously but allowed him to guide you into sitting over his lap, knees settled against the cold bench. You settled there as his fingers found your chin, gently nudging you down so you were facing him.

“Behave,” he warned. “Otherwise, you’ll mess it up.”

“Interesting spot to do this from,” you mentioned.

“Wouldn’t her being in a chair make it easier?” Ace asked.

Izou gave him a look over your shoulder. “Just stay close enough to melt the snow.”

“Okay.”

Izou had done your makeup before, but the first brush of his fingers still made your breath catch. They were cold from the wind when they touched your cheek, careful and firm as he turned your face toward the weak afternoon light. Behind you, snow hissed into water near Ace’s flame, and his knee pressed warmly against your leg while Izou studied you with complete concentration.

Ace was right. It was far from the easiest place for Izou to work. Half of the things Izou needed were out of reach behind your back but Ace very eagerly grabbed whatever he needed. Even though he did keep picking up the wrong things.

“They do look the same,” Izou said. “But this one is for her lips.”

“Why not use the same one for both?”

“Because it’s not designed that way. Close your eyes.”

You did as he asked, fighting the amused smile from your face while Izou brushed over your eyelids. The repetitive movements were soothing enough to put you to sleep.

Ace’s knee bumped you and you almost opened your eyes to look at him.

“Yes, Ace?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“You’re bumping me.”

He playfully knocked your legs together again and Izou’s hands paused briefly before he continued. He leaned around you to reach for something, chest pressing flush to yours for just long enough to make your heart kick. The faint clove-like smell from his hair was stronger than ever, invading your senses before he moved back.

“Try not to bump her too much. You’ll make her eyes uneven.”

Ace stopped immediately but you felt him shuffle closer on the bench, warmth pressing closer. “Which part would be uneven?”

Izou’s thumb brushed over your jaw and you let him turn your face until you guessed you were looking at Ace. “This part,” he said, gesturing with something unseen. “Can you see how it has to follow the curve of her eyes? If she moves too much, it won’t be as perfect.”

“It already looks really good.”

“And I will make it look even better.”

You smiled despite yourself as Izou moved you to face him again, his fingers much warmer against your skin now.

“I love it when you do this for me,” you said.

Izou chuckled softly. “I know you do. And you’re very lucky because I’m quite fond of it too.”

“I’m lucky for knowing you at all.”

“Flatterer.”

“Doesn’t make it less sincere.”

“I suppose not,” he said, “I’m working on your lips. Try not to speak.”

You made a show of closing your mouth, fighting the urge to smile or giggle when the pencil touched the corner of your lips. It was always the hardest part to hold perfectly still for, especially when he rested a hand over your jaw.

“I’m not going to lie, I thought you were going to kiss her to put that on,” Ace said.

“That would hardly be effective,” Izou said. “Though I may consider it another time.”

You smiled, just barely biting back the laugh in time. He tapped your lips with the tip of the pencil in playful reprimand and you giggled once before getting it under control.

It didn’t take him long to finish but instead of calling your makeup finished, he returned to your eyes again. You frowned for a second, not complaining but still confused. You definitely should have been done.

But Izou continued until footsteps crossed the deck and a hand lightly fell against your shoulders.

“You about ready to come with, sugar? We’re here.”

“I am,” you said, opening your eyes to look up at him.

Izou tilted you back toward him and raised a pencil to your lip line again, thumb brushing under the corner of your mouth. You were sure he had to be done by now but you stayed still in case you ruined his work.

“Izou,” Thatch said. “Can I borrow her before the markets close?”

He lowered the pencil. “I suppose we do have limited time.”

You smiled and leaned closer to place your cheeks close together, kissing the air instead of him to make sure you didn’t smudge it. “Thank you. I hope I didn’t move too much.”

He hummed and helped you off his lap, hand steadying you at your hip until you were stable. “Don’t let the snow ruin it.”

The docks were icy and the wind was cruel here. You wrapped your scarf higher and looped your arm through Thatch’s, using him as a body shield as you made your way through the town toward glowing lights of a market. When you’d first found this place, it had seemed useless but even now, you saw the marks of an island with a darker side to it.

People lingered in alleyways too long. Windows stayed shuttered though the day hadn’t passed. Stores sold one set of goods in their windows and something else entirely behind the counters.

Not for the first time, you found yourself appreciative of Thatch and his natural smile as he made his way through the streets. Without him, this would have been a far more intimidating place to explore.

“Izou’s attached today,” Thatch mentioned when you arrived at the start of what appeared to be quite a big market square.

The square was far larger than it had any right to be in a town this size, and here, nobody bothered pretending the market was respectable. Canvas stalls crowded together beneath the weight of the snow, their frames built to fold and disappear at the first sign of trouble.

Steel knocked softly against steel whenever the wind disturbed the weapons on display, and the air smelled of lamp oil, wet wool and something sharply medicinal. Men with heavy coats and heavier hands watched from beside the counters, paying more attention to the customers than the goods.

“He doesn’t like the weather,” you said. “That’s probably at least part of it.”

Thatch brushed stray snowflakes from the edge of your scarf and smiled. “I’m sure it isn’t helping,” he said. “But he also didn’t go inside until we left so it can’t be all.”

You glanced toward a stall with a collection of Marine swords, eyeing them briefly before you continued on. No food yet which was worrying.

“I think it might be more about Marco,” you admitted.

“You mean the conversation nobody’s talking about from this morning?”

“That one.”

“Well, it doesn’t take too much to realise something happened. A good start might be admitting to that part of it.”

You glanced up. “What do you think about the whole situation?”

Thatch smiled and it was slightly strained at the edges. “It’s a complicated thing. Sooner or later, all of us need to sit down and say what we’re actually doing here. Whatever happened with Marco doesn’t change that.”

“I haven’t… I don’t know if his thoughts have changed. I don’t even know what he thought to begin with.”

“He’s miserable, so he’s convinced the rest of us must be too,” Thatch said. “But I know from the way he stormed out this morning that you spoke about more than just your devil fruit. Which I suppose is progress in its own way.”

“He admitted that he didn’t think I was hurting anybody on purpose.”

“That’s a pretty low standard.”

You shrugged helplessly, saved from having to admit it when you spotted something that looked far more like a food market. Stalls pressed together in a narrow shopping street connected to the main one, shielded from the snow by canopies dripping onto the ground below.

Thatch saw it too and he moved toward it, your arm still wrapped around his.

It wasn’t the biggest food market but they had a decent amount. Fruit and veg were stacked in crates marked with flags and stamped with symbols from other islands. Fish sat on ice and salted venison swung from hooks.

Thatch fell into discussion with the merchants, his smile easy and affable in a way that put them at ease. By the time he stepped away, he had arranged for several crates to be held until the Moby Dick’s boats arrived in the morning. You weren’t paying too much attention, mind thrumming with thoughts of the ship.

You hadn’t really talked with anybody about it.

But if you did and you were forced to choose… what would you do? You didn’t have an answer for that yet.

“Didn’t mean to send you that far into your own head,” Thatch said after he stepped from one merchant, his tone genuinely guilty.

“You’re right though,” you said. “Even without the Marco thing, we should talk.”

“What is the Marco thing though? Because if it’s the same as everybody else’s thing… I mean, sugar, you know that’s going to cause trouble with Izou. And me to some extent. He’s given you a lot of trouble over the years.”

“That’s partially my fault though.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t mean it goes away.”

You sighed because he definitely wasn’t wrong. You actually thought Ace might be the one who cared the least about the Marco situation. Which was surprising given how much of the previous night’s sleeping arrangements had been changed for fear that he’d be too standoffish.

The market’s fabric roof shivered under more snowfall. You pulled your scarf tighter around you and tried to shuffle closer to Thatch.

He ran a hand over your hair. “I’m sorry for ruining your mood.”

“You didn’t,” you reassured. “I just… okay, Marco I understand but with the other two? Were you okay with this morning in the kitchen?”

“Thought I’d mind more than I did,” he admitted, smile faint. “I’ll need time, sure. But I didn’t want Ace gone in the moment. I do see why you terrorise him the way you do though. He does make it rewarding.”

“He does,” you admitted with a small laugh. “More than he should. I’m just worried that I’ve sort of dragged him into this without him knowing what he wants.”

Thatch scoffed. “The kid’s having the time of his life. Don’t doubt that for a moment. Did you not see how high those flames were burning this morning? I think you have to worry the least about him here.”

“He asks my permission to touch me half the time.”

“He’ll get used to it with time. But you know that’s not the person you need to think about.”

You inclined your head in agreement. As much as you had made a solid guess that neither Thatch nor Ace minded the morning’s games, you could already see bear traps lying around the ground when it came to Izou’s mood.

“I don’t think he minds Ace being around,” you said. “But more than that… I don’t know.”

Thatch smiled sympathetically. “And if he’s uncomfortable, it’s a real problem.”

“Any of you being uncomfortable is a real problem,” you corrected. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“The thing you always do where you act like Izou’s opinion matters more than yours. I’ve told you to stop it before.”

Thatch pulled you closer to his side. “I just know how much he means to you. You worry when he’s a little on edge.”

“That doesn’t mean anybody else matters less.”

He smiled and stopped. You paused with him and he quickly retied your scarf around your neck, drawing it warm under your jaw. “I think I’ve worried you about serious things for long enough, no? I should at least try to put a smile back on your face.”

“This isn’t your fault,” you huffed.

“This place is big enough that I think we can do a restock,” he said. “So that’s not a problem but before we go back, do you want to play a little game with me?”

“What type of game?” you asked.

“I’m curious if you know how to pick out good produce in places like this,” he said. “If you win, then I know you can help me in the future. If I win, then you can come along so I can teach you how to pick it out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, if I win, I get to go out with you more often… and if I lose, I get to come out with you more often?”

“Now you’ve got the spirit.”

You laughed despite yourself and Thatch beamed as though he had already won the game from that victory alone. You smiled fondly, heart warm even if the rest of you was slowly turning into an icicle.

“Am I meant to figure out which stall has enough or which one has the best produce?” you asked.

“Neither. That can come later. In situations where we need provisions, it’s more about picking the best from the lot,” he said. “Ideally, I would have my choice of ingredients but it’s not always possible. So the first thing we’re going to do is easy. We find somewhere that’s selling by the bag and we choose one each. Better produce wins.”

“But every vendor will put the good stuff on top and the rest below,” you pointed out.

“Exactly.” His hand naturally found the small of your back as he guided you toward the entrance of the market. “Which is why you have to know what you’re looking for.”

Okay, you had a chance. Thatch knew ingredients far better than you did but if everything was hidden, luck might favour you into winning. It was a small chance. But it was a chance, nevertheless.

He led you to a stall he’d obviously seen as you entered with a big green awning and crates at the front displaying a variety of fruits. Behind the woman running it, sacks were leaning against each other, their tops open to show what they held inside. You couldn’t see any marks on first glance amid any of the fruit.

“Variety makes it much harder,” he explained. “Because now the bag shape is going to be useless but it normally brings the price down quite a bit.”

“So, you’ve made this entirely luck based then?”

“Not at all.”

He looked far too confident. You had an idea he’d already spotted the best option and was letting you make the move first. You tried to follow his eyes but the only time his attention broke from you was to flit briefly to your lips.

“If you need a recommendation, I can offer one,” the vendor said.

You glanced to Thatch to see if that was allowed and he shrugged. “If you want the help, you’re welcome to it.”

But a vendor would want to sell you something. And these sacks were big enough that at least most of them probably had some bruised or damaged fruit. You declined the offer and stepped around to examine them, watching Thatch’s face for any hints.

“You won’t be able to tell what you’re looking for if you’re only watching me,” he hummed.

“Then be less distracting.”

He just smiled.

You settled on a bag before you could overthink it too much, choosing one closer to the side where carts would deliver from. It made sense those would sell the quickest because of the ease of access. Right?

You weren’t entirely confident but Thatch kissed your temple before he chose one for himself. He selected so quickly it sealed the acceptance of your loss.

The vendor tied both shut and you stepped in to pay before Thatch could try, smiling sweetly when he raised an eyebrow at you for it. If you were going to lose, you were at least going to pay for the privilege of doing so.

He caught both bags beneath their tied necks and lifted them onto his shoulders in one easy movement. The weight pulled his coat tighter across his back, and you watched for a second longer than necessary before remembering to look away.

A second he absolutely noticed judging by the grin on his face.

You found you rather liked that expression. “If you want me to join your division, I’m going to need to do some strength training,” you said. “Or not… if it means I get to see you do that more often.”

“Careful,” he warned playfully. “That almost sounds like you’re considering staying.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing imaginable.”

His eyes softened. “Definitely not.”

The next problem with your game announced itself when you returned to your ship. There wasn’t any space to examine your two bags. The deck was covered in a fine layer of snow that crunched under your shoes and the kitchen table was far too small. High against the clouds, you could see the swirling speck of a phoenix.

“My room?” you suggested as a natural solution. “We could use the bed to lay everything out.”

Thatch chuckled and shifted the bags on his shoulders. “Should we not try it the usual way before we start introducing food?”

You batted at his arm. “If we used food, it wouldn’t be apples.”

“No? Chocolate more your thing?”

You smiled playfully. “I don’t know. We’d have to try it and see.”

Ace and Izou were both already in your room, something that surprised you momentarily when you opened the door before you were hit with a wall of warmth that explained everything. Ace was flopped on his back, one arm extended off the bed where flames roared fiercely over his skin.

He sat up the moment you stepped in, smile spreading over his face. You immediately tugged off your scarf and slipped around the bed to wrap your arms tightly around his torso. The warmth against your frigid skin felt heavenly.

He hugged you with one arm, keeping the other burning freely to your side.

“You’re frozen,” he huffed. “What’s in the bags?”

“Fruit,” you said. “Thatch and I chose one each. We’re going to see who got the best bunch.”

“Did you find what they need for the Moby Dick?” Izou asked.

Thatch hummed. “There’ll be enough for a quick restock.” He dropped one bag at the left corner of the bed and another on the right before he smiled at you. “I’m abandoned so quickly.”

“Not my fault I have the best devil fruit,” Ace said with a grin. “Even Izou admits that.”

Izou hummed from his spot in the corner. “I admit he is useful while the rest of this ship resembles an icebox. Another hour without him and I may lose my fingers.”

You realised you might be rubbing your makeup off against Ace and let him go, stepping away from his arms to show Izou that you’d kept his work safe. He rose from his seat the moment you approached; smiling softly when you stepped into his space.

“Perfect,” he said. “You are beautiful regardless but this look complements you very well.”

You smiled fondly at him. “I made sure to keep it safe.”

Ace shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, the fire moving to his shoulders so he could untie one of the bags. “Which one is yours?”

You looked back and frowned, genuinely unsure. Thatch laughed and sat on the other side of the bed, untying the other sack. “You’re lucky I’m fair. It’s the one Ace has.”

“You always cheat at cards,” Izou said.

“I can play fair for this. Mainly because cheating would mean I lose.”

You huffed at the confidence and slid onto the bed behind Ace, surprised to find Izou followed, positioning himself against the headboard. You slid up next to him, allowing Ace to take the lead in removing your fruit from the bag.

The first three apples he took out were bruised.

It wasn’t a good start.

Thatch’s smile remained perfectly in place as he removed near ideal produce from his bag, each one nearly ideal. You waited until he was looking into the sack to slide a piece of good fruit toward Ace who immediately caught your idea and slipped it off the bed.

“He’s still going to win,” Izou warned you, voice low against your ear.

“I knew he would,” you admitted. “I’d have been shocked if he didn’t.”

Even with Ace swiping points, you had no real chance of winning.

Ace picked out a seemingly good one and you grinned. He held it out to Thatch who picked it up and smiled.

“Alright,” he said. “You can have that one.”

“What’s wrong with it?” you asked.

“Nothing. It’s just a little mealy. For cooking, it will be perfectly fine but for snacking, I wouldn’t recommend it. You can still take it as a good one.”

You huffed but you couldn’t shake the fond smile from your face. He put it carefully back in your pile and leaned closer to give you a quick kiss. One that allowed Ace to slowly switch one of your bruised apples with a fine one from him.

You giggled softly.

“What?” Thatch asked.

“Nothing,” you said. “But I’ll take one more kiss if you’re offering.”

He smiled and gave you another one. “Ace isn’t being very subtle to begin with. I can see him even if you’re distracting me.”

“Can you pretend you can’t?”

Ace picked up a bruised apple from your pile. “I can burn them instead?”

“That would be much more obvious,” you pointed out.

Izou leaned past you to pick up a small cluster of berries from Thatch’s side, wrapped in large, green leaves. He placed it in his lap and pulled a berry free, purple bleeding against his fingers as he offered it to you. You accepted it happily and shifted back to his side which must have been what he wanted because he immediately smiled.

Ace reached into your bag, pulled out a bruised fruit and put it on Thatch’s side of the bed.

Thatch pushed it back pointedly and you laughed.

Izou’s hand trailed up your side, sending pleasant shivers across your skin. You looked back at him and he offered you another berry.

“These are really nice,” you said.

“They are. You should ask Thatch to bake some tartlets with them. It’ll keep you from feeling too bad about your loss.”

You stared at him with mock sadness. “There’s still a chance.”

“If you want, we can switch the bottom halves of the bags,” Thatch suggested. “It’ll make it feel closer.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What? No. I don’t need your pity fruit.”

“Are you sure?” Ace asked as he picked out a slightly squashed citrus fruit.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll lose with pride.”

The door handle moved and everybody paused, turning your heads to look toward Marco as he stepped in. Snow still dusted his shoulders, his face faintly red. He stopped in the doorway. The tension in his shoulders eased for only a second when the heat reached him.

“Did you locate enough supplies for collection tomorrow?” he asked, far too stiffly. Almost rehearsed.

Thatch hummed and placed down another perfect bundle of citrus fruit. “The market here should be able to provide enough to hold us over.”

Marco nodded stiffly. His gaze moved across the ridiculous quantity of fruit scattered over the bed, Ace slowly switching more around with his shoulders blazing, and Izou’s tight hold on you. You saw the confusion overriding his awkwardness for a moment.

“What are you all doing, yoi?”

“Thatch and I chose a bag of fruit each,” you said. “So we’re seeing who chose the better selection?”

“Stolen fruit,” Izou mentioned.

You frowned. “Stolen?”

Thatch nodded. “When you get variety bags like these, it’s normally from theft. You’ll find most farmers focus on key produce so when you get massive collections like these, they’re often from thieves who go farm to farm and swipe what they can from harvest. It’s why they’re generally much cheaper.”

“So… when they’re delivered has nothing to do with the freshness?” you asked.

He tilted his head and smiled. “Was that what you used to decide?”

You crossed your arms playfully. “Maybe. I was thinking it would be like a farm stall where fresh produce is brought down and stacked on the side where the carts are.”

Izou chuckled and pulled you closer, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “I warned you that he’s a cheat. He merely neglected to tell you what sort of game you were playing.”

“Aw, come on, that’s not cheating,” Thatch protested. “That’s part of the game.”

“Marco, you’re letting all the warm air out,” Ace pointed out. “Come sit here already.”

He shuffled up, bouncing the fruit and leaving a space at the end of the bed between himself and Thatch open. Marco shifted warily. Then, after a second, he stepped in and closed the door, lowering himself cautiously at the edge of the circle.

He looked over the selection slowly. It was almost impossible to tell whose fruit was whose anymore from Ace’s meddling.

“Did you really think you could beat Thatch at this, yoi?” Marco asked.

You smiled. “Not a chance. But it was fun.”

“Aw, you definitely had a chance,” Thatch reassured. “We haven’t reached the bottom of your sack yet. You might have something good in there.”

“Marco, if you pass it here, I’ll look,” Ace said.

Marco handed over the sack and Ace brought out two small apples, one of which seemed fine, and a small winter melon. He rolled the bruised one to Thatch who sighed and put it in his own pile with a smile.

He looked into his bag and frowned for a second, expression genuinely faltering in confusion. Then he reached into the sack and pulled out a fruit.

A large, lavender-coloured thing covered in teardrop swirls.

You straightened and Izou lifted his head, arm tightening at your side. Marco’s expression settled into something wary and Ace’s flames flickered faintly. The devil fruit looked completely innocuous but there was no denying what sat in Thatch’s hands.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the low crackle of Ace’s flames.

“Well,” he said after a second. “Should I make Izou the only one of us that can swim?”

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Shanks looked down at your hand and beamed. “You should have told me she was available.”

“She isn’t.”

“Too late. Says here we’re married,” he said, letting go of your shoulders and returning your personal space. “Though I can’t remember our wedding. Maybe we should have another party in celebration. Do you want a dress?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “But you know this is just to sell papers, right?”

“And because you enable him,” Benn told you.

“I would never. Captain?”

“Yes?”

“If we’re having a wedding party, we’ll need at least an island’s worth of alcohol. Otherwise, this is going to be a very boring celebration.”

Shanks beamed at the excuse to have a party. “Anything for my lovely wife.”

“Don’t,” Benn corrected.

Shanks grinned in response. “Don’t be so bitter, Beck. You had your turn.”

“The wife of an emperor surely gets a higher bounty, right?” you asked Lucky who just chuckled.

“Not sure that’s how bounties work.”

“It should be.”

It stopped being a wedding party almost as soon as the crew reached the next island.

Nobody on the crew really cared to organise anything vaguely resembling a ceremony when you reached the next island. But there was music loud enough to carry along the beach, tables steadily disappearing beneath bottles, and enough food to keep everyone happy. That was more than a sufficient reason for the Red Hair Pirates to celebrate.

Your main complaint was the sand swallowing your shoes with every step. It made walking far more difficult than it had any right to be.

Shanks was having no such difficulties as he moved around the party. He ended up next to the fire, one arm thrown around Yasopp and laughing loud enough to drown out the waves. A few of the local women had joined the celebration, seemingly very pleased with the attention they were getting from your supposed husband.

It was honestly funny how quickly the evening had changed from a wedding party into a just-for-fun one the moment a pretty face had asked.

You lifted your drink to the rest of the crew.

The bar had been assembled from two uneven tables near the edge of the beach. You helped yourself to another drink before reaching for a familiar bottle and pouring a second. The sharp smell rising from the glass made you wrinkle your nose.

But it wasn’t for you yet. It was just an excuse to make your way over to Benn where he was standing against one of the palms that lined the beach.

The bonfire’s light reached him only faintly, catching against the smoke curling around his face before the darkness swallowed it. His cigarette glowed whenever he took a drag and you used the faint light to navigate your way across the uneven sand to him.

Why had you chosen such impractical shoes for this?

He inclined his head as you approached, gaze dropping briefly to your unsteady progress through the sand.

“Had too much to drink?”

You rolled your eyes. “The sand is deep.”

“Sure.”

“I haven’t even stumbled,” you defended yourself.

His mouth twitched slightly.

The area he was standing on was thankfully a little less cruel and you stopped beside him, leaning your shoulder against his arm. He shifted just enough to make the angle more comfortable for you without looking down. The celebration was only growing louder and you were certain it wouldn’t stop until the morning arrived.

It would be a nice day on deck actually. Almost everybody would be hungover.

“I brought you a drink,” you said, holding out the glass to him.

Benn lifted his own identical one to show it was still half-full.

You took it from him and downed what remained, pressing the replacement into his hand. The strength of it caught the back of your throat and you coughed once, stubbornly forcing yourself not to pull a face at it.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Suppose I did need one then.”

“A wife’s intuition,” you said proudly.

His attention settled on you, quiet and warm despite the unimpressed look on his face. He appreciated your intentions, though he wouldn’t say it.

“Your supposed husband has abandoned you for three women before you’ve even finished your drink,” he noted. “Devastating.”

“I know,” you mourned. “Though luckily, I’ve found someone far better to keep me company. What do you think? It’s a fun party, no?”

He looked toward the celebration. The crew had claimed most of the space beside the fire, laughing and shouting encouragement at whoever was singing badly alongside the musicians. Several of the locals had joined the party now, bringing food and drinks that surely wouldn’t go to waste amongst the crowds.

“It’s a loud party,” Benn said. “Though it’s good to be having it out here rather than inside a tavern. Fewer windows for them to walk into.”

“Just the ocean,” you noted.

“They don’t have devil fruit. They shouldn’t drown.”

“They’ll be wasted soon.”

“A problem they should have solved in advance.”

Despite his complaints, you knew exactly who would be going around and chasing them from the waves in a few hours. He’d become remarkably adept at keeping them under control over the years.

“They’re happy,” you said.

“They usually are when they’re being given alcohol.”

You looked over the smaller groups, mainly formed by unknowns who seemed to enjoy the energy of the party but were understandably wary of getting too close to the infamous crew. A few of them stood at odd angles near the edge of the crowd, never quite facing the celebration directly. You might not have noticed if you hadn’t been looking for it.

And you were definitely looking for it.

“We’ve got some of Morgans’ rats, it seems,” you said, voice lower now to keep the discussion just quieter. “They really are everywhere. It’s annoying. With all these rumours bouncing around, they’ll probably print another photograph of me. And if they take one in this lighting, it’s not going to be pretty.”

Benn chuckled and hooked a finger beneath your chin, tilting your face toward him. The glass in his hand bumped faintly against your jaw as he looked you over, and your heart thumped pleasantly at the touch.

His thumb remained beneath your chin a moment longer than the inspection required.

“You do look tired from your battle against the sand. Perhaps you should avoid them then. You’re far too good at spotting them.”

“I’m not tired,” you corrected. “I’m just enjoying you looking at me.”

Although now that he was looking for them, you knew it wouldn’t take him long to notice the way they stood. Bodies angled away from the party, hands shifting beneath loose coats and bags, shutter clicks swallowed beneath the music and laughter. You made it a personal mission to always keep an eye out for photographers. Your bounty was seen by everybody in the world and you refused to have an ugly one.

But it also gave you an opportunity.

“Maybe we should correct what they think about me,” you suggested.

“It’ll be difficult to prove your sanity in a photograph. Particularly after marrying him.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Divorce.”

You chuckled at the idea. “That would probably chase away his company for the night. Wouldn’t want to have to deal with the moping from that, would you? Maybe something more obvious?”

You turned into Benn’s side and tilted your face toward him, making the request as obvious as you could without saying it.

He glanced down at you and took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke away from you and into the sky. “You should be careful with requests like that. You could damage your marriage when it’s just started.”

You wrinkled your nose, beginning to lose patience with the joke now that it was keeping you from the kiss you wanted.

“My real marriage would only be made better by one,” you mentioned.

He extinguished the cigarette against the tree and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“There.”

You blinked. Then crossed your arms, mildly offended.

He simply smiled in response. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? I wouldn’t want to upset the captain of the ship now.”

You let your genuine offence melt into an exaggerated pout he could see straight through. “But you’re upsetting me. I just want a kiss from my husband.”

“I thought your husband was drinking with other women.”

He smiled. Sometimes you hated how easily he saw through your dramatics. You huffed and spun on your heel, already moving a step away.

“Fine. I guess I’ll go ask him then.”

Benn caught your arm before you’d even taken your second step and pulled you easily back to him, kissing you properly before you could say a word. You hummed, smiling against his mouth, pleased. You lifted your free hand to his jaw, making sure the glint of your ring said everything as you sank into the familiar warmth of his mouth.

It should have been the final clarification they needed.

Instead, that photo did the exact opposite.

Almost a week later, Yasopp was laughing far too hard for it to signal anything good. You knew it was bad when you stepped out onto deck, met his eyes, and he cackled louder. And because you had no sense of self-preservation, you immediately made your way to him, Hongo, and Limejuice to see what was so funny.

Limejuice raised his eyebrows at you as you approached, chuckling. “Well, if it isn’t the most scandalous member of our crew.”

“What have I done now?”

He handed you the newspaper, flipped to the third page. You looked over the image and the title and a laugh escaped you purely because no other sound made sense.

“They really think so little of me to believe I wouldn’t take the ring off first?” you asked and clicked your tongue. “Honestly. It’s almost like they think I’m a pirate or something.”

“Married to the captain but sleeping with the first mate? Talk about a rumour,” Yasopp said.

You shook your head in disbelief. “It’s absolutely disgraceful, I know. How can any of you lot tolerate such harlotry on the ship? Especially when the photo with my supposed husband is of me sitting next to him.”

“Admitting they’re wrong wouldn’t sell nearly as many papers,” Hongo commented. “So, the natural conclusion is an affair. Don’t know what else it could be.”

The laugh bubbled from your chest before you could help it. It was absolutely hilarious. The photo they’d captured was honestly lovely; taken from the waist up with your wedding ring clear against his jaw.

“They also need his name in the title somewhere,” Limejuice added. “I’m just shocked this has been going on right on the ship and nobody’s noticed.”

You fought to try to contain the chuckles and held up the newspaper in answer to footsteps approaching behind you. The familiar sound of Benn’s steps against the deck stopped as he looked it over and sighed.

“That’s really their answer?”

“I’m so sorry you had to find out this way,” you told him sincerely over your shoulder. “But it seems that you’re the other man in our relationship.”

He rolled his eyes. “You should ignore it. The more you try and reason with them, the more content you’re giving over.”

Yasopp slapped him on the shoulder between his chuckles. “How does it feel to be having an affair with the woman you married?”

“Exhausting.”

“The next edition will probably be something about who the father is,” Hongo suggested.

Your mouth dropped in offense and you turned to him. “Excuse me? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

He held up his hands innocently, smirk too cocky. “Come on, it’s the natural progression from the wife scandal.”

“I do not look pregnant,” you warned.

“You’re pregnant?” Shanks asked. “You’re hiding it well.”

“Shut it!” you snapped at him. “I am not. But I do have to tell you something quite important. I’m having an affair with your first mate. I know this must be hard for you to hear through a newspaper but please understand that I love him dearly.”

Benn gave you a very unimpressed look that you responded to with a sparkling smile.

Shanks chuckled and took the newspaper from you. “They’re pretty creative with these things, aren’t they? I suppose I can forgive it this time. But only with Beck, ‘kay? I can’t tolerate this behaviour with anybody else.”

You made a sign of swooning. “Aw, you’re the second-best husband ever.”

“Only second for accepting your affair?”

“Benn can get me a drink without finishing it on the way over.”

“News must be dry for this to be what they’re using,” Benn said, entirely ignoring your compliment. “Though I suppose the seas have been quiet. At least it’s not on the front page.”

“The paternity test will be,” Hongo said. “Leave the test to me. I can make the results suitably inconclusive.”

Yasopp wiped at his eyes. “Maybe it comes out with one arm.”

Both you and Shanks immediately collapsed into laughter. Your sides ached as you leaned against him to support yourself. Benn chuckled softly under his breath, whether at the idea or because you were laughing, you weren’t sure.

He always said he was very fond of your laugh.

“We should get you a sack of flour to carry around,” Limejuice said. “We can stitch red hairs into the top.”

“And give it a cigarette,” Yasopp added.

“She needs to be pregnant before she has the kid,” Hongo insisted. “You’re skipping over at least two editions worth of content. So, we should give her a watermelon to carry for a few months.”

“I can do that,” you offered. “But I want it to be a weirdly shaped watermelon. Like really long.”

“No,” Benn said. “I’m not dealing with how sticky the deck’s going to be when it inevitably falls and smashes over everything.”

“I promise not to drop it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

By the time dinner arrived, most of the Red Force had lost interest in your supposed paternity scandal. Which was good because there was only so much laughter you could take before you developed a permanent stitch in your side. Still, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be long until it resurfaced at the next market you found with watermelons.

You made your way to the kitchen while a game of cards started on the deck and trimmed the edges of the newspaper away so you had just the photo.

You lifted it to the light and hummed. It would need a backing board. The paper they used to print on was getting awfully thin of late. You’d be happier if you could get your hands on the actual image though… maybe you should write in and ask for it.

“Are you really keeping it?”

You looked over your shoulder to find Benn standing in the doorway. You smiled and lowered your arms.

“I am. It’s a nice photo. I’ll buy a frame the next time we stop somewhere with a shopping street instead of a distillery.”

“You have very high hopes for the future.”

You laughed softly. “I could get rid of it instead if you want me to. I’m not overly attached. Or maybe I should write a formal letter of complaint?”

He stepped closer and leaned over your shoulder to look at the photo. “Somehow, I don’t think they’d be particularly worried. You can see my ring where I’m holding your wrist.”

You looked closer at the photo and immediately laughed. As you held his face, he held your arm, his hand turned to rest against your pulse point with a matching ring on his finger.

“I think they’ll use that next,” you said. “They’ll skip over the kid and think you’re cheating on a wife back home.”

“They wouldn’t care about that. Doesn’t involve Shanks at all.”

You hummed. “Fair. Though realistically, we’ve already had two. They’ll probably move on to something else in the next week. Or maybe a group of idiots will blow up an island and get far more media attention.”

Benn gave you a look. “Hopefully this is not how I learn about your plans.”

“Why would I blow up an island?”

“When you’re with that lot, I place nothing outside the realm of possibility.”

You didn’t appreciate how often you had to admit he was right. “Does it bother you?” you asked. “Not the blowing up an island thing but all of the rest of it.”

You could understand how it would. If things were the other way around, you weren’t sure you’d be pleased about the situation at all. Actually, you knew you wouldn’t be. You’d be even more bitter about the part where you didn’t have any options to correct the problem.

“Not the first time people have thought you’re with him,” Benn said with a shrug. “Probably not the last. I care very little about who a newspaper thinks you’re married to. You’re still wearing my ring.”

“It’s honestly impressive he managed to start a scandal story without even doing anything,” you admitted. “That’s a new one.”

“No, it’s not.”

You leaned against the counter and smiled. “Maybe we should start confining him to the ship whenever we make land. I think it’ll be safer for everybody.”

Benn raised a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “As though you wouldn’t be far too bored?”

“Hey, I can entertain myself by bothering you more.”

He hummed but you caught the affectionate smile that appeared for a second. “Maybe I should confine both of you to the ship. It will be safer for everybody.”

“You’re really not looking to dispel the rumours then,” you teased.

“I don’t need to. Anybody who’s met Shanks knows he couldn’t keep a wife for longer than a night.”

“And anybody who’s met me knows exactly who I have eyes for.”

He scoffed. “Even if they haven’t met you. In the first photograph they took, you were standing next to him but you were looking at me.”

“Was I?”

“Very obviously.”

You hummed and looked down at the photo you had. “Then I should get a copy of that one too. I can start a little album to document our lives as told through the newspaper.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re planning on causing more stories.”

“Maybe… Two photos isn’t much of an album. But don’t worry, I’ll only ask the others for their help occasionally. And I won’t bring the watermelon onboard.”

Benn gave you a long, unreadable look.

Then, before you could ask what that meant, he bent down and swept you into his arms. You laughed, catching hold of his shoulders as he carried you toward the door.

“So, is that a yes to the album?”

He said nothing which you chose to take as enthusiastic approval.

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His smile faltered as he looked at the weapon but it remained in place. “Just here to deliver something.” He nodded his head toward a piece of paper in his hand.

You already had an idea of what it was.

And if you were right, it was incredibly stupid.

You stepped closer, gun still aimed at him until you were close enough to pluck the piece of paper from his fingers. You unfolded it to find your own drawing staring up at you. Right. The drawing disappeared into your pocket before anybody else might see it.

This didn’t need to be returned. He knew there was no reason to bring it back.

“It’s the same as the one we found,” he said with a nod.

You didn’t bother responding to that with a verbal answer. It mattered very little to you if two ships sailed under the same symbol.

“Why are you on a Marine vessel with paper scraps?” you asked. “Is this an intimidation attempt from your captain?”

He grinned, fast enough to catch the lie. “If you want to take it that way.”

“The Marines don’t care about threats,” you said, voice stern enough to carry. “Not even from a man like Whitebeard. I would advise you take your leave before my generosity runs empty.”

Fire Fist took a small step back and you followed him. He stopped without warning and your pistol brushed against his torso before you tugged it back. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it and his smile stayed loose and easy.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re working?”

You frowned at him. “Yes.”

“Then when’s your next day off?”

Seriously? He seemed far too eager to get an answer and you couldn’t deny that you were faintly amused by it. What good would knowing your day off truly be?

“That doesn’t seem like an appropriate question for you to ask,” you said and tapped your nail against your gun pointedly. Three times.

His eyes dropped down to the weapon. “Days?”

“Yes. Fire Fist, I will not tolerate – ”

“Ace,” he said.

You paused. “What?”

“That’s my name,” he said with a nod that told you absolutely nothing about why he thought this information was relevant to you in the slightest.

“I’m well aware,” you said. “I’ve seen enough of your bounties to know.”

“Then you should call me that. It’s less formal.”

You stared at him, confused. Nobody had ever briefed you on how to handle this type of response in a working environment. You knew what you might have responded if the coat wasn’t billowing around your shoulders but…

Technically, the manual probably said you should attempt an arrest for his trespassing instead of offering him a free opportunity to leave. You considered it but then you would have to file the paper in your pocket as evidence. Which would not be ideal.

“You are terrible at retreating,” you said because what other response could you give him. “Go. I have no interest in provoking Whitebeard but if you push me enough, I’ll have to do it.”

“Do you have orders to capture pirates?” he asked.

You pressed your lips together. He was right, you didn’t, but you felt you shouldn’t give him too much leeway with that. Not when he already looked far too confident with the sunlight giving his skin a faint glow.

“I can only handle so much temptation,” you commented. “We are not friends, Fire Fist. If you keep presenting yourself to me, I will happily arrest you no matter the consequences.”

“Ace,” he corrected.

You stepped forward. “Get off my ship.”

“Okay but where –”

“If I want to find you, I know how to,” you said. “You don’t keep a low profile.”

He finally took the hint and relented, nodding to you before he jumped from your ship to the skiff below. It ignited into flame and he raised a hand in a wave that you did not return. You watched him go before you looked back at your men.

Some were uninterested, others amused, and a few obviously annoyed that you hadn’t taken advantage of the situation.

You holstered your weapon. “If they ever ask me to capture a pirate to earn their goodwill back, I have a good one lined up,” you commented.

They all laughed to themselves; mood dispersed by the acknowledgment of it. Most who sailed with you relished the opportunity to do only what they were told and nothing more though you were certain a few wished for more combat.

Still, that was an issue for them to take up with somebody else. You would not get into dangerous fights for fun.

“I will continue to chart back to our base,” you said. “If any of you see more pirates, I implore you to sail around them. They’re getting far too cocky lately.”

They gave their affirmatives and you looked once more toward the flickering shape of Fire Fist’s skiff. A very strange pirate indeed.

The drawing sat in your pocket as you docked outside the Marine base you were in charge of. Your men pulled up alongside the ridiculous scavenger ship, still floating there despite promises for somebody to come collect it and take it to an impound.

They had transferred the men you’d caught onboard easily but the vessel itself remained. Ridiculous. But it happened.

Orange evening light spilled through the streets of the town surrounding your base. It was a beautiful area with roofs hanging with plants and worn stone roads. It had been here long before the Marines identified it as ideal for a headquarters in the region and it showed. The further your steps carried you from your base, the older the buildings grew.

The warm smells of food cooking carried through the tight neighbourhoods and you stopped by a familiar woman to buy yourself something small for dinner before you continued to your personal home.

The climb was steep enough to pull at the muscles in your calves by the final turn. You might have slowed to admire the view if the footsteps behind you had not slowed too, always a few beats after your own.

The plant in your kitchen was wilting dramatically again, its leaves bowed over the rim of the pot, so you placed it in the sink and left water soaking through the dry soil while you changed. Once the uniform was put away, you brewed two cups of coffee and opened the balcony door.

The balcony looked across the whole town. Roofs descended toward the harbour in uneven rows before giving way to the cove, where your ship’s sails shifted faintly between the masts. Jungle climbed the surrounding hills so thickly that the last light caught only on the highest leaves. You had never found time to decorate, but there was a table and four chairs, one already freckled with rust at the joints.

You placed the two mugs safely away from that one and took a seat, watching a flock of small birds flit from roof to roof below.

The pastries you bought were fresh and buttery and the grapes had clearly been harvested that day because they burst with sweetness against your tongue. You plucked them from the vine lazily.

The second chair moved and you inclined your head in greeting.

Sabo sat with far less stiffness than he’d had when he first boarded your ship. He adjusted his coat slightly. You pushed your plate into the middle of the table and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took a grape.

“I see you did look around my room then,” you noted. “If you’ve learned where I’m stationed.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. “It was the only thing I found of any interest although I’ve recently learned there’s not much use to watching this base. Not much moves through here.”

You hummed. “I could have told you that?”

“Would you have?”

“Definitely not.”

Your hand bumped against his when you both reached for the vine at the same time. For a second, neither of you moved. The leather of his glove was smooth against your skin and you enjoyed the sensation for the moment.

Then you tugged a grape free and offered it to him. He took it from your fingers and you pulled another off for yourself.

“If you know there’s not much, why are you here?” you asked.

He didn’t answer.

You didn’t expect him to.

You knew there was a minor presence from the Revolutionary Army on this island. They moved into many of the towns surrounding active bases to try and destabilise the townsfolk and gather information. But the movement here was minor. They had far more important places to be and you doubted they had infinite resources.

Night settled slowly around the balcony. Insects started up in the trees below, and somewhere near the harbour a bell rang once before the sound thinned across the roofs. You left the lantern untouched. Moonlight silvered the rim of Sabo’s cup while the two of you emptied the coffee and plate without speaking.

Only when a chilled wind caught your hair did you rise to your feet. Sabo stood too; he reached for your cup while you took the plate. The cutlery clinked against itself as you lowered it into the sink, his coat brushing against your arm. He lifted the plant back to its spot on the windowsill.

You stepped away to light your lanterns before you took your usual seat on the couch. He hesitated for a moment before he sat down on the other side.

“I heard there are orders to all Marines to report any suspicious activity around their base.”

After so long in silence, his voice sounded a little strange. Not unpleasantly so. But in a way that shifted the peace.

“That’s true,” you acknowledged and reached for a thin blanket, draping it over your legs.

“Is this not suspicious activity?”

You glanced toward him, sitting perfectly normal in your living room. “It depends on why you’re following me?”

“If you mean to exchange questions, those aren’t quite the same.”

“No?”

“No.”

You tried to think of another question you could offer. The conversation from earlier arrived before you could think too deeply; Fire Fist’s eager insistence on a fact you already knew. One apparently more important than the guns aimed at his chest.

“Alright,” you said. “What’s your name?”

Sabo frowned. “You know that.”

“I do. But you’ve never given it to me.”

It was almost as though he was thinking about it. You knew just about everything Marine intelligence did which admittedly, wasn’t much more than a face and name. And an interesting fighting technique that had never quite been explained.

“Sabo,” he said.

You smiled and nodded. “No, this isn’t suspicious activity because I did not see it while I was working. And the reason I am here, punished, is for taking an initiative that wasn’t mine. I learned my lesson well.”

“So you’re letting me sit on your couch because you’re annoyed with your superiors?”

“Spite is a very strong motivator.”

“What happens when it runs out?”

You huffed. “Believe me, it won’t.”

He inclined his head in agreement. “I can relate to that,” he said with a level of conviction that implied something far deeper.

“And who are you spiting, Sabo? The World Government?”

He paused, stunned for a second when you used his name before the expression changed into something quizzical. Not as though he did not want to provide the information but more as though you had asked him for something he didn’t actually know.

You waited until he looked up at you.

“Do I get your name?” he asked. “Or am I stuck calling you Rear Admiral?”

The way he said the title almost made you laugh. His mouth twisted around the words as though he had tasted something particularly unpleasant.

“It can’t hurt you that much to say.”

“It feels like I’m insulting both of us by doing so.”

“Then I have half a mind to make you keep it.”

He smiled and you returned the expression before you offered your own name. One he surely knew. For you had no doubt in your mind that any information the Revolutionary Army could gather on you was already learned by him.

He didn’t repeat it back. Just leaned more against the chair.

His eyes lingered on you, attention turning inquisitive where it dipped away from your face and you almost laughed at the obviousness of where his mind had moved to.

“Are you wanting to continue something?” you asked.

He looked toward your face with a small smile rather than shame. “I’m considering things,” he said. “I can’t reasonably justify remaining around a Marine base when I have no intelligence that it might be important. Yet I feel like there’s something here I should be learning about.”

“I’m certain there’s evidence enough,” you offered. “Though, perhaps if you eavesdropped, you might hear we are currently investigating the spread of revolutionary ideals in the islands of this region.”

His smile grew the slightest amount. “I could hear that,” he said. “If I listened to the right sources.”

“Verbal evidence doesn’t hold up well though,” you mentioned. “You’d find out a great deal more if you were to find investigation records held in the main office of the base.”

You weren’t sharing the full truth, something that you were certain he knew. The details of the locked desk drawer and the keys sitting in the pocket of your coat were impossible to learn from mere eavesdropping, after all.

“The main office would belong to you,” he said.

You reached for your book and smiled. “Shockingly.”

You opened to your bookmark and smoothed out the pages, finding your spot with ease. It wasn’t a particularly good story but you felt compelled to finish it now that you were so close to the ending.

Sabo considered it. “Should I expect guns pointed at my chest the moment I step in?”

“I do work in my office,” you warned as you turned the page. “So that’s an accurate expectation to have. I wouldn’t recommend trying to enter to begin with.”

“It gives you far less deniability than here.”

You paused to look toward him. “It gives me no deniability at all. Even if I wanted to arrest you here, how would I? I have no weapon. No cuffs. I don’t even have a motivation. I wasn’t aware sitting on my couch was a crime punishable by imprisonment.”

He removed his hat and set it down on the table. “I’m not foolish enough to think you became a rear admiral through a gun alone.”

You smiled. “No matter how many ways you come to the question, you won’t get an answer that satisfies you anymore than what I’ve given already.”

“I’ve realised that.”

“Then why do you keep asking?”

He laughed; a sound so interesting you raised your head curiously to look at him, momentarily smiling on instinct before you wiped the expression from your face entirely.

“So I have an explanation for when others ask.”

You chuckled quietly. “Do they ask?”

“Not yet. But they will.”

“Then you’d better prepare your case now. Because unlike me, you’re still on the clock, aren’t you?”

He frowned, humour wiped away rapidly as he looked toward the balcony as though your question triggered a realisation. You wondered, briefly, if he would stand and leave then but when he turned back, he hadn’t moved.

“We don’t really have working hours,” he said.

“That’s a shame. I’m fond of strict hours where I can know what’s expected of me. It makes it much easier to know where I should stand or who I should talk to.”

“Even without it, it’s been a rather productive day,” he said and he sounded almost defensive.

You smiled patiently. “I’m certain. Although… if somebody was close enough to ask about who you’re speaking to, you might want to provide them with a heads up to avoid the safehouse beneath the bar close to port. The one with the crab sign.”

Sabo straightened, relaxation gone from him in a second. “What do you mean?”

You glanced toward the snail on your counter, still asleep. “If somebody turned on a light in a safehouse discovered by my men two weeks ago, the group staking it out would notice. And that would ruin my very comfortable evening.”

He grabbed his hat and immediately stood. So he did have a partner in the town then. Interesting. You’d thought he might be alone.

“They’re watching it now?”

“They are. Although, for interest’s sake,” you said as he began to leave, “That balcony door is always unlocked when I’m home. Should the inns be full.”

He hesitated at the door frame and looked over his shoulder at you as though he wanted to say something. Then he stepped out and closed it behind him. You looked back at your book and settled in, hoping to finish it by the end of the night.

Three days passed without any reports from your men about the Revolutionary Army. Nor did you see any signs of them yourself.

It was strange to admit to a slight disappointment though you didn’t linger on it for very long.

Your day off should have found you relaxing at your home rather than boarding a small sailing vessel for a trip far too long for your usual breaks. It wasn’t particularly pleasant either. You arrived on the island with a firm appreciation for your own ship and its steady movement through even the roughest of seas.

The sun beamed down against your skin as you walked through the port. You had been right. Ace was easy to find, even in regions with limited surveillance.

And here, in a town, you could just follow the crackle of flames.

You found him close to the edge of the buildings, sitting cross-legged with his back to you while three children crowded near. Small flames skipped between his fingers in the shapes of birds and bursting stars, bright enough to stain their faces orange even beneath the afternoon sun. Their laughter covered your approach, giving you time to lean against a wall and study the tattoo spread across his back.

The detailing was immaculate, dark ink following the shift of muscle beneath his skin. Freckles scattered over his shoulders and down his back around it, dense in some places and faint in others, like stars washed thin by daylight. It would take an eternity to count them all. You weren’t sure why the thought occurred to you.

You moved away from the pole you’d been leaning against.

You stepped on the small spark that had drifted to the ground and Ace’s attention snapped to you immediately, his smile brightening the second he saw you.

He was on his feet so fast he almost bumped you with his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re… I thought you would only get here a little later.”

“I took an early ship,” you said. “Much easier to talk like this, isn’t it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, playing with the beads that hung there. “Yeah. I probably shouldn’t have shown up in the middle of a Marine ship. Thinking back on it.”

“Not the best idea you’ve had,” you agreed.

“Sorry about that.”

The kids were all staring at you so you smiled politely at them. They grinned back immediately, waving as though your acknowledgement made their days a little better.

“I’ll leave you to your audience,” you said. “Same place as last time?”

Ace blinked for a second as though confused before he nodded earnestly. “Sure! I won’t be long. When do you have to go back?”

“I have two hours,” you said. “I’m sure that’s enough time, no?”

“Of course.”

The restaurant owner raised a stern eyebrow when you pushed the door open. His warning from the time before lingered in the air. You likely should have chosen a different location but Ace enjoyed this place.

“He’s joining me again,” you said.

The man shook his head but nodded with his chin toward a table and continued to wipe down the counters. You stepped past to take a seat in one of the booths and looked through the window at the town going about its business. You rather liked the slight lean to many of the buildings in this area.

It was a strange little place. Two small children ran after a dog through the streets and a woman dropped a piece of laundry from her window that landed on a passerby’s head.

Nothing special and yet still comfortable.

You pondered that until the table shifted and Ace dropped into the seat across from you, shaking his hair back from his face. His hat was off and his breaths were a little quicker than they should have been.

“I do hope you didn’t run,” you said.

“It was a light jog,” he explained. “I’ve got something for you.”

He put a wooden box on the table in front of you and proudly tapped the top of it. You reached for it; confused and curious.

“A gift?”

“Kind of. You helped me with the flag so when somebody mentioned this, I thought I should let you know. We found it at the wreckage apparently but nobody really knows what it is. Jozu said it might be Marine tech and I realised you’d know better than anyone.”

There wasn’t much identifiable in the box. Most of it was scrap. Unidentifiable, twisted chunks of metal and wires but as you lifted it out, you recognised a few of the marks scratched onto the sides.

“This is ours,” you confirmed. “I don’t know what it was originally though. This was very purposefully destroyed. When smugglers get their hands on our stuff, before getting caught, they’ll often do this so we can’t trace it back to their source.”

Ace smiled proudly and leaned back in the booth. “Apparently that’s all there was on board. Everything else was cleared out. What do you think they were smuggling?”

“I’m not sure. The ones we chased dumped their cargo in the water while we were getting repairs.”

He frowned. “Two ships both getting rid of stuff? Do you think they’re running through our protected territory on purpose?”

You nodded with a bland disinterest. “Whitebeard is known for being efficient at keeping the Marines away. It’s hardly surprising that other criminals want to take advantage of the protection that type of thing affords.”

“Maybe we should go looking,” Ace mused. “Shouldn’t be hard to find out if there’s more of them.”

You hummed and dumped the metal back into the box, pushing it back toward him. “The only Marine bases in the surrounding regions are the one where I’m stationed and another to the northeast. Somebody has a breach, clearly. Unfortunate.”

He nodded, his grin far too proud. “Are you going to tell them how you figured it out?”

“Figured what out?” you asked.

He blinked. “You know, that people are smuggling things. You didn’t want to tell them about the drawing so I figured they weren’t meant to know we talk.”

You laughed softly. “No,” you said. “I generally don’t tell my men when I’m having lunch with a man I ought to arrest. But I won’t tell them about this anyway. I haven’t been given any orders surrounding technology smuggling. The last thing I need is another hunk of worthless wood taking up my docking space. It’s about one day from going missing.”

“Wait, the whole ‘not my job’ thing applies to when somebody might be stealing from you?”

“They’re not stealing from me,” you corrected. “I know exactly what’s in my office and the only thing that’s gone missing recently was a table lamp. And that was because somebody chewed through the cable.”

Ace frowned. “Like… one of your men?”

You laughed at the mental image. “No. I leave food for the mice under my desk and unfortunately, one of them misunderstood the invitation. I used to do it at my old post too until one bit my superior officer’s finger while he was lecturing me. I laughed so hard I was put on recruit training for two months.”

Ace snorted. “Is that really a punishment?”

“Believe me, yes.”

A plate of food was placed directly in front of you, markedly different from the three Ace received. You looked at the owner curiously.

“He hates this dish,” he said by way of explanation. “But you might like it. It’s favoured by most of our customers.”

“Appreciate it,” you said.

Ace grinned broadly at you as the owner moved away. “See. People like you a lot more already.”

“After one visit?” you asked. “I don’t think so.”

“Two visits,” he said. “Because you brought the letter here personally, right?”

“How would you know that?”

“I asked.”

You laughed softly to yourself. Of course, he asked about that information, out of everything he had. It was considerably less important than it should have been and yet… it made you a little happy to know that you had made him happy by doing so.

“I think the reason he tolerates me is because I pay for your meals,” you mentioned.

“I’ll pay this time. You can get the next one,” Ace said immediately.

“Next one?” you asked.

He nodded and paused eating momentarily to look at you. “When you travel out here again.”

“I don’t know why I would,” you said. “This is hostile territory and it’s not as though I have business in this region very often. If anything, I probably shouldn’t come out again.”

He gestured toward the box between you. “What about that?”

“I haven’t been given orders to investigate it,” you mentioned. “Even if I suggest it, it would be an operational risk. As much as you have decided that I’m welcome to visit you without consequence, I don’t think the others in your crew would have nearly as solid of an opinion.”

“Don’t worry about them,” he reassured. “They’ll listen to me. They might complain first, but they’ll listen.”

“Will they now?”

The dish you had been brought was good. Better than you had expected it to be. It reminded you vaguely of the flavours you found around the Marine base you were stationed at. Interesting. You supposed it wouldn’t take much guesswork to figure out where you were meant to be.

“If they give you trouble, I’ll just explain,” he said eagerly.

“How do you plan on explaining you invited a Marine presence into your captain’s territory without sounding faintly traitorous, hm?”

He pondered it before he inclined his head to you, conceding the point. “Okay, that probably wouldn’t go too well,” he acknowledged. “But what if you just come out to visit this island for a meal every now and then?”

“I’m not sure how far I should push this island’s dislike for me,” you mentioned. “You’re not too good at manufacturing visits, are you Fire Fist?”

His smile faltered before stubbornness took its place. “Fine. I’ll come up with a better reason.”

You immediately felt bad for your tease.

You looked down at the plate of food and the box. Admittedly, it was suspicious to have smuggled technology floating around. It would potentially, be the sort of thing you could notice and take a look into. Without anybody complaining.

You took another bite and hummed. But you would be working while you did it which would not fit in very well with his plans.

Unless…

“A wreckage carrying intact Marine technology would be more plausible,” you said. “If I was told about it by a concerned civilian, I suppose I would have to go and investigate to make sure there’s no danger.”

Ace raised an eyebrow, smile returning tentatively as though he didn’t want to commit to your plan without confirmation.

“It would get you one small win,” you pointed out. “I suppose I’d have to call you Ace. The moniker doesn’t quite suit an average civilian.”

His expression lit up. It told you everything you needed to know about how he felt about the idea.

The moon had risen by the time you arrived back at port; pale against the sky. There weren’t many lights on this part of the docks. Only a few had been flicked on at your arrival.

The air was cool and the waves blissfully calm, rocking the stupid little scavenger vessel against the pilings. You stared at it. Your men had done a good job stripping it for valuables (and you trusted that they hadn’t left anything) but you wondered…

You should just leave it. But curiosity led you around the side where a gangplank had been left lying against it. Your boots sent small fragments of wood into the air as you landed; the broken mast hung above you like a sombre gravestone.

Nothing waited on deck. You crossed slowly, fingertips dragging over rails rough with salt and fresh breaks, until you reached the stairs leading below. The air rising from the hold smelled of damp timber, old smoke, and trapped seawater. Darkness gathered beneath the first step, thick enough that the moonlight reached only a narrow strip of metal.

You drew your pistol and descended.

Something silver moved inside that strip of light.

You fired at the same instant their weapon cracked. The two shots struck so close together they became one violent sound, and heat punched through your stomach before pain followed. You staggered back with a hiss, one hand catching the rail as something heavy collapsed against the stairs below.

Floodlights flashed on and somebody shouted your title.

You pressed your hand to your stomach where blood bloomed hot between your fingers.

Well, fuck.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @charukii ; @ilovedreming ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @moon-shampoo ; @infinitely-creative

“Hey, I have amazing stamina.”

You caught the fastener of his hat and pinned it to his chest with your palm so it stopped dangling in your face. “You’ll have amazing sunburn after this. And Marco on your back about neglecting your work.”

“They can survive without me,” Ace said. “Besides, don’t you also have stuff to do?”

You narrowed your eyes faintly. “Why don’t you do some push-ups? If you’re going to show off, do it properly.”

He grinned and lowered himself down until his nose brushed yours. “You just like watching me work out.”

“If you’re going to have your chest out, you can’t blame me for looking at it.”

He repeated the action and you watched his biceps flex. You couldn’t deny that helped your mood. The third time he did it, you tilted your head up to brush your lips against his, relishing in the warmth of his breath.

“Feeling better?”

“A little,” you conceded. “I think there’s a problem with this cure of yours.”

“Hm?”

“You can’t keep it up forever.”

“Watch me.”

You laughed softly despite yourself and his smile stretched wider. The annoyance still lingered there but you could hardly be that irritated at the world when Ace was showing off for you.

“What else can I do?” he asked. “There has to be something, right?”

 You thought about it as he continued his minor workout above you. “Well, I am craving chocolate but Thatch says we’re out and we’re not going to make land for a few days.”

Ace frowned. “Maybe there’s something in the storerooms he forgot about?”

“Not a chance,” you scoffed. “Thatch notices when I steal half a cup of rice from one of the bags. There’s no way he’s forgotten about something.”

“There’s always a chance, right?”

Ace’s next push up was a little slower and his head drooped slightly before he shook it.

“Falling asleep while you’re working out?”

“What? Never.”

“Should I move so I don’t get trapped then?”

He huffed. “I’m fine. I’ll stay awake.”

He lowered himself again and you caught the fastener properly, pulling him into an awkward plank while you kissed him. He kept the height, mouth warm against your own as you slid a hand to the back of his neck. His arms shook minutely and you let him go.

“If you fall asleep on me, I’m blaming you for not getting anything done today.”

Your kiss had distracted him enough that he didn’t seem too bothered by the threat at all. And you were absolutely right.

He only got through one more push-up before his arms slumped aside and his weight dropped onto you heavily, his face buried in your chest. You chuckled softly and plucked the hat from his head. You settled it over your face to get some protection from the sun.

You were probably going to be there for a while.

Your mood had improved by dinner, enough that you found yourself joining in for a round of cards before you headed to bed.

Ace was already in his cabin by the time you stepped in, lying on his back and tossing something into the sky and catching it again. The second he saw you, he sat upright, smile as proud as a cat that had found its way into a bird cage.

“You look far too pleased,” you noted.

“That’s because I found you something.”

He held out a foil-wrapped bar, half-opened to show a chocolate inside. You frowned, staring at it in momentary confusion.

“Where did you find that?”

“Thatch said it was technically yours,” Ace said. “I found it in the back of the fridge and asked about it. He did say it has alcohol in it or something but it's still chocolate.”

You stepped closer and snapped off a piece. It was very thin, almost brittle, and flecked with red flakes. A small chocolate bloom had begun to crawl over the surface.

“This must be really old…”

Ace shrugged and tossed a piece into his mouth. “Tastes fine to me. And if it was off or something, Thatch probably would have thrown it away.”

You couldn’t remember when you’d last bought chocolate. It was possible you’d forgotten about it, you supposed… You twisted a piece around in your fingers, trying to remember.

Ace plucked it from your fingers. “I think it tastes pretty good,” he said and held it up to your mouth. “You’ll like it.”

You struggled to ever say no to him when he was looking at you with those beautiful eyes. His eyelashes were unfairly long. You opened your mouth. He placed the square on your tongue with a proud grin.

It tasted good, you couldn’t deny that. Dark and smooth with a faint citrus bite but something still felt a little strange. Almost like it was sparkling in your mouth, popping and fizzing.

“Can I see the wrapper for this?” you asked.

“Yeah.” Ace tore it from the bar and held it out to you. “Do you not like it? I’ll get you something different when we stop again.”

You nodded. “You can have the rest if you want. It tasted a bit weird to me.”

“Thanks,” he said. “It wasn’t so bad.”

The label was worn white from age and years in the cold storage but once you got it into the right spot under the swaying lantern, you recognised it instantly. This was yours. You remembered buying it ages ago by accident and shoving it somewhere in the galley fridge to gather frost.

Unfortunately, in the second it took you to remember what it was, Ace had already bitten through half of it.

“Wait, wait!”

Ace froze and swallowed hard. “What? Is it actually poisonous?”

“No but it’s… Do you feel okay?”

He looked over himself. “I feel fine. What’s wrong with it?”

You held the label out to him. “I realised why I didn’t take this from the kitchen. It’s not normal chocolate. You’re meant to just have a small piece and it gets you a little worked up.”

“You bought sex chocolate?” he asked with a small laugh.

“Accidentally,” you said. “I was after the regular version. But you’re definitely not meant to be eating the whole thing. Are you sure you’re not feeling weird?”

He shrugged. “No more than usual. Maybe it doesn’t work on me because of the devil fruit thing? Like it burned off.”

You somehow didn’t believe that. “Just let me know if you feel sick, okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, tossing the chocolate to the side. He pulled you closer to press a kiss on your forehead and another to the corner of your mouth. “See? I’m all good.”

Before you could answer, Ace lifted you into a bridal hold, spinning you once before he dropped onto the bed, pulling you with him. You laughed despite yourself and the sound made his smile almost glow.

You adjusted into a more comfortable spot and pressed up to his chest. “Thank you for trying. Even if it didn’t work.”

He pulled you closer. “I’ll get you proper chocolate the moment I can, ‘kay?”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

You felt perfectly normal when you woke up the next day, Ace passed out against your neck. Nothing that suggested anything strange had come from the chocolate. You tossed it out on your way to the dining hall, unimpressed even when Thatch appeared to present you with a plate.

“We have chocolate?” you asked as you picked up the pastries.

“Couverture chocolate,” he corrected. “Which I wasn’t going to let you eat as a snack. But I made you something with it.”

You stared at him, mildly unimpressed though it did remind you.

“Speaking of chocolate,” you said as you kicked out the seat across from you for him to take. “Do you know what you gave Ace yesterday?”

Thatch laughed as he sat down. “You mean did I finally get rid of that thing that’s been sitting in my galley for over a year now? I did warn him what it was, before you come accusing me of trying to trick him.”

“Oh yeah? What did you say?”

“That it was spiked and he said that was fine. Why?”

You sighed and took a bite of the pastry he’d offered you. It was good enough that you could imagine forgiving him. Not today but someday soon.

“He thought you meant it had alcohol in it.”

Thatch looked like he was trying to fight back a laugh and you kicked at his shin under the table which he very unfairly dodged. “Ah, well, are you really complaining?”

“Yes,” you said. “You should have told him.”

“The label was still attached. I assumed one of you would read it before eating half the thing.”

“Why do you look like you’re in such a mood?” Marco asked as he took the seat beside you. “Again.”

“Why do you look like you haven’t slept the whole night?” you retorted.

He didn’t answer the question. “I told you she wouldn’t be impressed with you magically presenting chocolate.”

“That’s not what she’s upset about,” Thatch countered.

“He drugged us,” you said.

Marco’s attention immediately cut toward Thatch who threw up his hands in defence.

“Hey, don’t make it sound so bad! Ace found that old chocolate she bought ages ago. I warned him it wasn’t normal chocolate but apparently, he didn’t pass on the message.”

“How much did you eat?” Marco asked.

“Practically nothing,” you said around a mouthful of breakfast. “A square.”

“And Ace?”

You paused. “Like half the bar. But he wasn’t feeling any side effects so… Do you think it would make him sick?”

Marco shrugged. “Sick? I doubt it, yoi. It was probably a novelty more than anything else. I’ll monitor him for today though, in case. Is he awake yet?”

“Nope.”

“Could also be expired,” Thatch offered. “You bought it ages ago.”

“For your sake, I hope so.”

“You can’t blame this on me.”

“Funny because I’m already doing that.”

Marco laid the back of his hand against your head and you leaned away from him with a glare. He took your wrist, pressing two fingers against your pulse.

“You’re not showing any symptoms of overstimulation. Though it could have a delay. Just let me know if anything changes throughout the day.”

A sudden heat enveloped you from behind and Ace buried his face into your hair, stifling a yawn against you. He squeezed you once before he dropped into the seat next to you and looked up to realise the three of you were staring.

“Uh… morning?”

“Morning,” Marco said. “Are you feeling okay, yoi?”

Ace blinked. He looked fine. He ran his fingers through his hair to push it back from his face.

“Me? Yeah, I’m good.”

“If it did expire, then it’s basically normal chocolate,” Thatch said and realisation dawned on Ace’s face at the topic of conversation.

“His pupils are very dilated for normal chocolate,” Marco noted.

Now that he mentioned it, Ace’s pupils were… larger than you’d seen them before. Not worryingly so but enough that the usual oaken shade appeared distinctly darker.

And you couldn’t even blame the lighting of the dining hall. The sky outside was brilliant blue and light shone through the windows in warming, comforting rays.

“You told Marco about the chocolate?” Ace asked.

“Just in case it was dangerous or something and we had to have a trial for Thatch.”

Thatch rolled his eyes. “I can’t be held responsible for this. I warned you it wasn’t normal chocolate and you had a label. If you inhaled half of it before reading, it’s not my fault.”

“You said it had alcohol,” Ace countered.

“No, I said it was spiked,” he corrected. “I didn’t say a word about it having alcohol. I thought she would recognise it, considering it was hers.”

“If you die, Pops will know exactly who to blame,” Marco said flatly. “But you should be fine. Just tell me if you start to experience anything uncomfortable. You ate far more of that stuff than you’re meant to at once.”

Ace nodded and reached for your plate. “Then why sell it as a whole bar?”

“Most people don’t buy that sort of thing for one night,” Thatch said. “Not that you two need the encouragement.”

“I guess… hey, wait, this has chocolate in it.”

“I’ve already complained,” you muttered. “Apparently, it was not for snacking.”

Thatch groaned like a man standing under persecution. “You wanted something with chocolate and I made you something with chocolate. Now you’re complaining about getting it?”

“Yes.”

Everything felt fine until just after lunch when you were mending a sail. A flush of heat crawled over you, blossoming out from low in your stomach. You stiffened and adjusted your seat, the movement sending a pleasant tingle through you. Your heart pulsed uncomfortably behind your ribs.

You looked down at the thread in your hands and grimaced. Not expired then.

It was an ignorable sensation. The type of interest you’d felt before. One that would normally have you drag Ace away in the evening but wouldn’t pay mind to right now.

But if this was what you were feeling…

You stood and left the sail there, rolling your shoulders to try to shake some of the excitement from your fingers. The second division were meant to be on the deck today.

Only, there was a small problem with that plan.

“Ah, they’ll be back within the hour,” Rakuyo said. “Some idiots were messing around on one of the islands near here.”

You gave him a sharp look, annoyed more than usual given the discomfort in your stomach. “Seriously?”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” he defended himself. “I didn’t plan this. Ace’ll handle it and be back before you even know it. Missing him already?”

You ground your teeth. “No.”

“Did he do something?”

“No.”

You marched down the stairs and into the infirmary, wincing faintly when a brush of warm air pressed against your skin. Your heartrate hadn’t slowed yet. It was making you feel jittery and uncertain.

Marco was busy at his desk, pen scratching over something when you stormed in.

“Why’d you send Ace out now?”

Marco looked at you over the top of his glasses. “I haven’t sent Ace anywhere, yoi. What’s wrong?”

You gestured behind you as though that explained anything. “It’s not expired,” you said, voice softer in case anybody else was around. “And now he’s run off to handle some idiots elsewhere? Couldn’t Vista have done that?”

“Is it affecting you then?”

You were silent for far too long before you answered. “Maybe…”

“How strong is it?”

You adjusted your weight. “Decently. It’s manageable but uncomfortable. I feel like my heart is going a little fast. But I had one square.”

Marco sighed. “Technically, he doesn’t need my permission to attend to his own division. We’ll have to wait for him to come back to make sure it’s not causing him problems.”

You groaned. “Great…”

Waiting the hour made it far worse. Marco ordered you onto a bed in the infirmary for the period and the sheets scratched awfully against your skin. The smell of the medical supplies hurt your nose. You couldn’t ignore anything. Every sound, every movement… it was all getting under your skin.

“It’ll wear off,” Marco said. “You can wait in your own cabin if you’d like.”

“It feels like my heart wants to jump out my chest.”

“Try to avoid that. My healing is only so strong, yoi.”

The first sign the second division had returned was the thunder of boots overhead, followed by raised voices and the hard crackle of fire. You swung your legs off the bed before Marco had even pushed back his chair, leading the way toward the deck.

Ace looked fine. Mostly. He wasn’t hurt but he kept shifting his weight, dragging his hand over the back of his neck or flexing his fingers. Flames danced over his skin constantly; flickering and flashing quickly. His grin was easy but he continued looking around, searching for something.

A member of the second division clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “You can stop looking for the next fight, Commander. They’re all gone.”

Ace laughed lightly. “What do you mean?”

He rolled the beads around his neck in his fingers and you glanced at Marco whose lips were pressed into a thin line. A spark of flame jumped from Ace toward a nearby rope, thankfully quickly patted out by somebody else.

You stepped forward and he looked to you almost immediately. He crossed the distance far too quickly for somebody attempting to look casual.

“Hey,” he said. He stopped in front of you and rocked back on his heels. “Are you… feeling okay?”

His pupils were enormous. They made him look far too wired. He crossed his arms and then uncrossed them again. You could feel the heat from his skin, radiating like a furnace as the flames continued.

The warmth in your stomach curled.

“Mostly,” you answered. “You look…. energetic.”

“Yeah, it was a bit of an intense fight,” he said.

Marco cleared his throat. “Because of them or because of you, yoi?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Did you get hit?”

“What? No, I’m fine. It’s just a little warm.”

“Says the man made of fire?” Rakuyo asked from somewhere on the quarter deck. “Are you planning on extinguishing those flames?”

Ace looked down at his forearms as though he hadn’t even realised he was still lit up. The fire flickered out. He smiled but it looked a little strained at the edges. You reached for his arm but the second your fingers brushed over him, he jolted away.

“Not now,” he muttered, offering you an apologetic smile.

The warmth was very inviting. Too inviting. You wanted to step closer and bury yourself in the heat radiating from his body.

“He’s just worked up because they got away!” somebody yelled.

“Alright,” Marco said and he moved between both of you. He met your eyes. “Ace is coming for a check up in the infirmary and you’re going to go sleep it off in his cabin.”

“Is something wrong with you?” Ace asked, concern immediately bleeding into his tone.

“Nothing that can’t be solved with rest, yoi,” Marco said.

Despite how much more you wanted to do the exact opposite; you forced yourself to step away from Ace. It probably was better to put distance between you. Before you forgot you were standing in the middle of the deck.

Already, it was feeling like a rather unimportant consequence.

Rakuyo whistled. “This is getting really bad, Marco. Start putting them on opposite ends of the ship until they remember how to survive an hour apart.”

Fossa hummed in agreement. “One hour and they’re both this twitchy.”

You threw a rude gesture at both of them for the teasing before you took Marco’s instructions to heart. You stepped away, making your way back into the underbelly of the Moby Dick.

The passage below deck was cooler, the dim air a soothing balm after the glare above. By the time you reached Ace’s cabin, though, the heat had already gathered beneath your skin again. You shoved the windows open and leaned into the salt wind, letting it drag over your face and throat as though it could pull some of the tension from your body.

It was nearly twenty minutes before the door opened behind you.

Ace stepped inside and closed it carefully. “Marco says neither of us is dying.”

“Good.”

You closed the distance and sealed your mouth against his. He made a muffled sound against your lips.

If every other scent had been annoying you, his was addictive. The faint burnt wood that clung to him was mouth-watering and you broke the kiss to trail kisses over his throat; nipping at the skin there and drawing soft pants from him, his hands tightening hard around your hips.

“Mar – Marco said we should be resting,” he muttered out.

“Good for Marco,” you mumbled, rejoining your lips to his.

Ace turned and your back hit the door with a thump. His tongue pressed into your mouth, his skin almost scorching where it met yours. He kissed you like he had been holding his breath since the deck, hands dragging beneath your shirt until you tore it over your head. Bare skin met his chest and the contact punched a soft moan from you.

He had never struggled to be vocal, but this was something else. Every breath broke against your mouth in a groan, low and rough enough that you felt it vibrate through his chest.

You buried your fingers in his hair, grip tightening as one of his legs pressed between your own and you rolled down against his thigh, pleasure sparking through you. The hour of denial had wound you far too tight. You had to fight to keep your thoughts.

You pulled away and he followed, mouth dropping to your collarbones in hungry, open-mouthed kisses.

You ground against him again and your hand trailed down his chest to find where his cock strained against his shorts. The moment you brushed against him, his breath broke against your skin and his hips jerked into your palm. You fought the button for a moment before you got him free. He was burning up, skin clammy and feverish against you.

“Ace,” you muttered and he lifted his head from your chest.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe you went out to fight instead of fucking me earlier.”

“I didn’t know it was going to take effect,” he protested. “How was I meant to know your sex chocolate was so strong.”

You dragged your hand over his cock and rolled your thumb over the head, smearing precum over your fingers as he groaned. He folded into your neck, hips pushing into your grip as your own rocked against his thigh. Each slow stroke pulled another rough sound from him and fed the ache between your legs.

Fuck, you really were worked up. Your breaths came in short bursts and your head thudded against the door.

Ace groaned against your skin, hand moving from your hip to brace himself behind your head, fingers fanning out as he pressed closer to your body. Your wrist was at an awkward angle but you moaned softly at the shift against your core.

You sped up the pumps of your hand, squeezing as you reached his tip. His groans against your throat turned desperate.

He pulled the fabric of your bra down, causing the straps to slide off your shoulders as he closed his mouth around your nipple. You nearly whined at the sudden heat of his mouth. The sensation went straight between your legs. Your thighs clenched tightly around him, your strokes shaking as you struggled to focus.

But he was close. You could feel it in the shake of his breath and you paused your grinding to turn your attention to him. It normally took a lot more than this to get him anywhere near the edge but you supposed the chocolate had some benefits.

His thighs tensed beneath you and his grip tightened hard enough to sting, every breath breaking shorter against your throat.

Ace leaned back and groaned your name, the rest of his sentence cutting off when his hips suddenly stuttered.

Warmth flowed over your hand and you stilled, lowering your head to meet his gaze. You giggled and kissed him loosely, his tongue tangling with yours. His breath was almost burning in your mouth and you hummed.

“You did that on purpose,” he muttered when you shifted away.

“I did,” you admitted. “But I’ll make it up to you. Besides, you ate half that bar. There’s no way one round’s going to be enough.”

You nudged him back until you could sink to your knees. Ace swallowed and you stared up at him, smiling innocently before you ran your tongue up the underside of his cock. A broken groan caught in his throat, turning into something needy as your lips moved over the tip.

You let your tongue trace the mess from his skin before taking him into your mouth again. Salt and the scent of him thickened the ache between your legs.

The effort gave some direction to your frustration. Ace groaned, hand tangling in your hair as you moved.

His cock bumped the back of your throat and you looked up at him through your lashes. You slid back and then forward again, drool gathering in the corners of your mouth as you took him deeper, relishing in the slight ache in your jaw.

Ace’s hand tightened in your hair, not guiding, only holding on as if he needed somewhere to put the tension. Heat pulsed beneath your palm where it rested against his thigh, climbing with every broken sound you pulled from him.

A bitter, singed smell cut through the haze just as Ace took a sharp step back. You blinked at the sudden loss of him before you noticed the flames tearing over his skin.

“I… sorry,” he muttered. “Just need a second.”

You slowly got up. The arousal in your stomach twisted uncomfortably but you ignored it. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, clearly focused on breathing. “Sorry about your hair.”

“My…?”

You reached up slowly to find a few strands twisted and curled. Oh. That was the smell.

You laughed and stood up. “You set me on fire?”

“Maybe.”

The flames seemed to be calming now though the burning in your stomach certainly wasn’t. You leaned back against the door and let your hand slip between your legs. The first brush over your clit tore a gasp from you.

Fuck. It felt so good, better than it should have. Heat pooled through the room despite the open windows, caught in the cramped space with the smell of salt, smoke and him. All the friction from earlier had left you soaked, and you dipped your fingers beneath your bottoms to roll over your clit again.

“You’re being cruel,” Ace accused.

You opened one eye to look at him and purposefully pitched your next moan a little higher. “Guess you have to get those flames under control faster,” you breathed out. “Otherwise, you might miss it.”

His gaze dropped to your hand and stayed there, jaw tight as another line of fire crawled over his shoulder. You would have chuckled if not for the small whine that escaped instead.

“Ace,” you moaned, his name catching in your throat.

“I know,” he said. “I’m getting there.”

You let your mouth fall open, eyes slipping closed as you chased the feeling. Your clothes suddenly felt unbearable and you shoved them down, unhooked your half-on bra and let it fall beside you. You pressed two fingers into your pussy, whimpering around the sensation. It wasn’t enough of a stretch but when you curled them just right –

Hands hooked beneath your thighs before you could take another breath. Your shoulders pressed to the door with a stuttered gasp and Ace sealed his mouth against yours in a devouring kiss. His skin stung where it pressed against yours, almost painful at every point of contact.

It felt like he was trying to push you through the door with how hard he held you against it. The hard line of his cock dragged against you as he crowded closer. He lifted you higher, never breaking the kiss once.

Your lungs burned hotter than the air around you.

You reached between your bodies, caught the base and guided him until the head pressed at your entrance.

The stretch alone almost sent you over and you leaned your head back to catch your breath, barely stopping your climax before it rolled over you. His nails dug into the undersides of your thighs as he pulled you flush against him.

“How do you feel even better than I remember?”

“Because you ate sex chocolate,” you muttered.

“No,” Ace said, firmly enough that you looked back at him. “That’s you. You always feel so good.”

You kissed him before he could say anything else, fingers knotting in his hair. The first pull of his hips left you aching around the loss. When he drove back in, your moan tangled with his, and the next thrust followed before either of you had caught your breath.

His name fell from your lips as he dropped his head, mouth finding your pulse point in a way that was definitely going to leave a mark. Your legs trembled and you hooked them around him, the position driving each push of his hips deeper.

He shifted one arm more securely beneath you, the other braced against the door as he gave a strong, solid thrust that ground the base of his cock against your clit.

Spots danced over your vision as your fingers tightened in his hair; whining moans that you couldn’t control filling the air. The fire was back on Ace’s shoulders now and you forced yourself to let go, smothering the small flames as he took on a much faster pace. His hips shoved against your own and you groaned.

“You’re smouldering,” you warned him.

“Don’t care,” he muttered.

His next thrust shook through you and your nails bit into his shoulders, ideas of smothering the flames vanishing at once.

You really weren’t going to last much longer. Not with this pace and the delicious grind against your aching clit. Your thighs trembled around him, back arching as you drew closer. You felt tears beading in your eyes as your breaths turned panting.  

Then the tension snapped.

Your shoulders tore away from the door as pleasure clenched hard through your stomach, pulse after pulse dragging a broken cry from you. You smothered it against the back of your hand while your body tightened around him.

Ace’s hips didn’t even stutter. Your heart was pounding in your ears, loud enough that you could barely make out what he was muttering against your neck. You tugged his hair to get him to move his head back, kissing him hard the second he did. He groaned into your mouth, thrusts growing almost punishing.

You squeezed yourself around him and he groaned, low and rough. The friction was working you well into the realm of overstimulation.

The flames were growing higher now, his hold around you tight enough to bruise. Your body was singing at every sensation, fireworks sparking under your skin in a trembling mix of pain and pleasure. You broke away from the kiss, forehead leaning against his own.

“Ace,” you whimpered.

“Nearly there,” he said. “Promise. Just a little bit more.”

You whined desperately, clenching hard around him.

He kissed you again in response, hips stuttering against yours one more time before he buried himself against you. The kiss turned lazy and messy as he rode out his climax, tongues pressing sloppily together between panting breaths.

Ace pushed away from the door, walking you both the short distance to the bed before he lowered you down and pulled out, falling onto his back at your side.

A spark of fire landed on the pillow and you lazily patted it out with your palm.

“Feeling better?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You okay?”

You hummed and shifted closer, curling up against his side. His skin at least felt somewhat cooler than the near scorching heat from before. “Very much so. I’m starting to think that chocolate wasn’t too bad of a purchase.”

“I’ll try a normal amount next time,” he mumbled. “So, I don’t feel like tearing off my own skin.”

“You can always tear off my clothes instead. Much better option.”

Ace chuckled softly and pulled you against him, face buried in your hair. “Give me like five minutes first.”

“Only five?”

“Mm. You’ve only had one. That’s not fair.”

You smiled against his chest. “You’re planning another round?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re sure?”

“Five minutes,” he repeated, already sounding far too comfortable. “Then I’ll prove it.”

His breathing evened out before a minute had passed.

You lifted your head and found him completely asleep, mouth parted slightly and one arm still wrapped possessively around you. You stared at him for a moment before poking his cheek.

You sighed and settled back against him.

If nothing else, your mood was considerably better than it had been the day before.

Amusement flashed over his expression for a second at the official title and you smiled. He seemed to not know how to deal with you when you said it like that. Another small fact you could file away next to the rest of your more pointless intelligence.

“Maybe they’d believe you,” he said. “They all seem to be quite convinced I’m losing my mind from exhaustion. They staged an intervention yesterday evening.”

You laughed at that and Marco chuckled softly in response. The wind rustled through your clothes and his hair.

“I imagine it was because you nearly drowned half of the twelfth division?”

He looked mildly offended at your implication but his smile remained in place. “I know where I’m flying yoi. I would have only caught you.”

“No,” you corrected. “You would have missed me. You did miss me.”

“It was a slow dive. I was checking if you’d learned your lesson from the first time.”

You rolled your eyes. He hadn’t been moving slowly at all; you’d just tempted him into taking an opportunity that was right in front of him. The fact that half the maps went flying spoke fully to that.

“If you’d like to try it again, you’re welcome to,” you teased. “Maybe I can practise with the local gulls on shore. I’ll take some food and see if I can dodge them.”

He huffed. “I’m much faster than a gull.”

“You clearly haven’t met enough gulls then. Or enough motivated ones.”

“They won’t be around anyway. Most smaller birds disappear when I’m in the area.”

You paused. A beam of sunlight landed on your boots, warmth creeping across the deck as the morning started properly. The light caught in his hair, pulling out the same gold that edged his feathers. It was a strange detail but one you filed away.

“Your influence stretches that far from the ship?”

“I’ll be supervising the visit. Part of the intervention was they insisted I take breaks, yoi, and so I’m going to join Jozu’s division for time away from the ship.”

“Oh, is that why I’m invited along?”

He shrugged but the movement was a touch too casual to be believable. “Can’t let you run around the ship without me here. I’ll come back and find a net hanging over my office chair.”

“Beartrap would work better,” you hummed. “I’ve already got you looking up. But if I’m rotating through the divisions, when do I get to follow you around for a day? You’ll remember I’m quite interested in learning about… medical things.”

“You’re observant enough for it but you spend far too much of your time watching me. It’ll make a workplace hazard.”

You inclined your head. “Once I’ve caught you, I won’t have a reason to be distracted.”

“If, you catch me,” he corrected you. “Then you’ll have no reason to pretend you’re interested in my work anyway.”

You chuckled and took a sip from your coffee. “I don’t know. I’m sure there are other motivations. What time do we leave today?”

Your answer ended up delayed by a ship-wide earthquake that sent you stumbling into the barrel, coffee sloshing over your hand. You hissed in complaint. Ace… Seriously, his vendetta against Whitebeard was starting to annoy even you.

Blue flames caught on Marco’s hand. He reached out to your burn without even looking and the agitated skin soothed immediately. Like plunging your arm into warm water, the flames licked over the injury until it barely remained.

“I’ll go check on that, yoi,” Marco said. “I’ll have somebody find you later.”

You smiled and dried your hand on a nearby cloth. “I look forward to it.”

By late morning, you were walking through a timber market with the third division, surrounded by stripped logs, towering stacks of planks and the sharp resinous smell of newly cut wood. Saws rasped from open workshops while cart wheels knocked over the uneven boards laid across the mud. You liked the division well enough, but their work was infernally dull, and before long you had abandoned the finer points of hull repair in favour of turning a small carved horse over between your fingers.

The market should have been thick with gulls. Instead, their cries came faintly from farther along the shore, leaving the sky above the stalls strangely empty beneath the shadow circling overhead.

The light dimmed over the carving in your hands. You tilted your head back and found Marco banking above the island, broad wings catching the sun until blue and gold burned along their edges.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” a nearby lumber merchant asked.

Jozu sighed. “Yes, he’s fine.”

“He knows how to keep a low profile,” you commented.

“Indeed,” the other commander grumbled.

“It’s a truly beautiful bird,” the woman you had been speaking to said and you nodded.

“I know,” you replied. “And unfortunately, he knows too.”

You hadn’t been aware that when Marco said ‘supervision’, he meant he would be flying around as a giant bird. Then again, it might not have been normal even for the other Whitebeard Pirates who kept glancing up nervously.

“I think he came with just to fly,” Jozu said as he paid for the lumber. “And supervision was some kind of excuse.”

“Thought he needed a break,” you mentioned.

“That too,” Jozu agreed although he gave you a slightly suspicious look.

That probably wasn’t knowledge you should have but oh well. “Not sure what makes this any different from his normal flight. He could soar just as easily around the ship.”

You wondered how good Marco’s hearing was. He was considerably high up and the noise from the market was loud. Sawing wood, yelling, and the rattling of cart wheels could easily steal your voice. But you were suspicious about that because you couldn’t imagine him as the type to allow discussions to go on without hearing them.

You kept your gaze fixed on his silhouette. There was one easy way to find out.

Jozu chuckled and picked up a rather large crate, shoving it onto the back of a nearby cart with a puff of straw. “I think he’s making a show of ‘relaxing’ so everybody leaves him be.”

“Or he’s showing off,” you suggested. “Not that it’s too impressive, anyway.”

“You don’t think so?”

You shrugged, eyes never dropping from Marco’s silhouette. “It’s just that I don’t see flying as interesting, anyway. It’s overrated. You could use it to scout, sure, but it’s as easy to see things from the top of a tree.”

Jozu dusted his hands and reached for another crate. “Maybe. I hate heights, so I’ve never seen the appeal.”

Marco’s circles were getting closer. The others in the market were noticing too. They kept glancing up toward the sky as the shadow grew bigger and bigger. You looked up and you met his gaze.

You raised an eyebrow.

His wings folded tight against his body.

Shouts broke across the market. Jozu’s hand snapped to his weapon as he searched for a threat that was already falling toward you. You bent to slip beneath the dive, but Marco opened his wings at the last possible second and twisted through the air, turning with your movement instead of passing over it.

His talons closed around your upper arms and sides. Heat and pressure locked against you, too carefully controlled to pierce and far too strong to fight. His next wingbeat struck the market like a sudden storm. Straw lifted, wood shavings spun across the ground and your boots left the boards before you could drag in a full breath.

The world dropped away.

The cry that tore from you never became more than a choked gasp. Your legs swung beneath him while the lumberyard shrank into stacks of pale timber and moving dots. Your stomach seemed to remain somewhere below. You caught at one scaled leg with both hands, fingers locking so tightly your knuckles blanched as the wind clawed at your clothes.

Fear cinched around your throat. The trees flattened into a single mass of green and the rivers became bright threads cutting through it. Even the Moby Dick looked small from here, resting in the deeper water like a child’s model.

“Calm down, yoi. I’m not going to drop you.”

His voice pulled your attention upward. Blue fire had retreated from his face and torso, leaving his wings and legs transformed while he watched you with maddening calm. His grip had not shifted once. You forced your fingers to loosen around his leg one at a time, and the panic in your chest slowly stopped climbing.

His wings kept a steady beat, holding you securely beneath him.

This angle really suited him.

“I knew you could hear me,” you said. “Didn’t expect to get stolen though.”

“Thought I’d show you some of the flight you care so little about,” he chuckled. “It’s far more effective for scouting than a tree.”

You dragged your attention away from him, looking over the island around you. “Maybe. But most of it’s just smudges.”

Marco looked past you toward the ground. “Like this, yes. But fully transformed, I could see every individual person down there. Even from this height.”

You adjusted yourself and smiled. “Good eyesight too? I should really get your brothers to force you to take a break more. I get so much information without even trying.”

“The eyesight was obvious, yoi,” he said though his voice was laced with amusement. He lifted his legs a little. “Do you want to keep hanging there or would you like a more comfortable seat?”

You couldn’t see how you would possibly adjust your position. His arms were very much covered in feathers and you weren’t about to clamber up him.

“Why? Getting tired of holding me already?”

He grinned and suddenly let go of one of your arms. You grabbed the leg still holding you, nails digging into him as you swayed in the air. Your stomach plummeted and he tossed his head back in a laugh when you glared up at him.

“Not at all, yoi. I could keep you here forever.”

You muttered a curse at him and his grin only grew wider. But despite that, you found yourself smiling back instead of being too annoyed. The ground felt a lot further than it should have been but his talons were unwavering around your arm. A hot pull had started deep in your shoulder, sharpening whenever the wind swung your weight beneath him.

“If you drop me, you’re explaining it to your captain,” you warned him. “And you can’t blame it on a random bird. Other people witnessed my kidnapping.”

“You’re banking on witnesses? Why not count on my good nature?”

“You’re dangling me in the air,” you huffed. “Your good nature isn’t going to be enough. Consequences are my only hope.”

Marco hummed. “This means I have two points now, doesn’t it? After the first time I caught you, I thought you might learn. For a great hunter, you seem to struggle against prey that can catch you back.”

He was far too arrogant about this. You met his smug gaze and knew you had to find a way to get rid of that smirk. But it would have to wait until you figured out how to get out of the sky with your dignity intact.

The wind blew around you, strong enough to tug at your clothes. Your shoulder was really starting to ache; the discomfort interfering with how refreshing the breeze truly was.

“Patience,” you said, finally. “I only need to catch you properly once.”

“Oh? And then what?” he asked. “I need some ideas for what to do with you now after all.”

His free foot curled around your torso, talons spread carefully across your waist so the points never touched skin. You jumped, not expecting the warmth of his talons where they wrapped around your waist to support you better. The weight adjustment made you breathe a sigh of relief, arm far less strained even if you were now at a bit of an angle.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” you said. “You’re not meant to have a heart for your prey, you know. Most birds just rip things limb from limb.”

He grinned. “I considered it but it would be far too much work to explain. I caught Thatch like this once when we were younger. The higher we climbed, the stronger the urge got to drop him. Prey isn’t meant to come back down alive, yoi. That’s why most people ride on my back.”

You didn’t know how you felt about that when you were dangling in his claws. But he hadn’t dropped you yet so… you focused on that rather than the alternative.

“Didn’t realise you were a carrier pigeon.”

“I’ve had this fruit for thirty years. You think I’ve never had to give one of my brothers a lift?”

You tapped your fingers against his leg. “Thirty years? Wow…”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

The talon around your torso jostled you playfully. Your stomach flipped but you kept your smile firmly on your face. Despite his complaint, his smile hadn’t faltered in the slightest and you took that as a sign you could continue.

“I was just thinking,” you continued. “The next time you cover those grey hairs, you might want something a little less yellow. At your age, distinguished would suit you better than tropical fruit.”

He clicked his tongue in faux annoyance but laughed a second later as though he couldn’t maintain the act. “You’re very confident for a woman that’s entirely at my mercy right now.”

“You remember where we are?” you asked. “That’s really good. I know your brothers are worried about your mind fading but this is a good sign.”

Marco’s smile shifted and the beat of his wings adjusted. “You know, you might be right. I think I’ve forgotten where I picked you up from. Let me try and remember.”

Flames curled over his body; a beautiful bird appearing in his place. He extended his wings and dropped, talons tightening around your chest as he suddenly dived.

The fear from the climb had burned away, leaving only the thrill of speed and the certainty of his hold. With his talons secure around you, the height no longer felt so threatening. You could almost admit he had proved his point. Flying was far better than sitting at the top of a tree, especially when he was the one doing all the work.

The lumberyard flashed beneath you and vanished behind the trees. Marco kept going until the forest gave way to pale sand and dark rock, then swept lower as the ocean rushed up beneath you. His pace eased above the shallows, each beat of his wings broader and slower as sunlight fractured across the water.

Then he let go.

You had only a second to twist your head up to him in betrayal before you splashed into the water below. It wasn’t deep at all but the tide immediately tangled you, flipping you over once before you managed to get to your feet and coughed up a mouthful of sea water. The waves lapped around your hips as he landed on a nearby rock above the surf; a pleased trill rumbling through him.

The sound was entertaining enough that you couldn’t even be that annoyed, laughing in turn.

He transformed back, smile pleased but slightly guilty. “You alright, yoi?”

A wave hit your back and you picked up your shirt slightly, twisting the fabric even though the action was pointless. “You dropped me in the ocean?”

“I thought you looked a bit hot.”

You waded through the water toward where he was standing; the sand difficult to walk through and salt lingering on your tongue.

Marco held out his hand and you took it, his palm warm against your own. Shivers moved through his forearm the moment you made contact. His body still didn’t appreciate the sea water clinging to your skin.

Instead of climbing out though, you braced one foot against the rock he was standing on and leaned back with a small tug.

“It is hot and the water’s lovely,” you said. “Why don’t you join me?”

Marco’s gaze flicked to the ocean for a second before he smiled, loose and comfortable. “Tempting, but swimming’s never agreed with me.”

“I’m sure I could change your mind,” you offered and you walked your free hand over his wrist, watching the reflexive shudder in his arm. “I find it does wonders to cool me down when I’m getting heated.”

“That doesn’t look much like swimwear, yoi.”

“Wonder whose fault that is. Though it’s not unfixable. I’ll just take the outer layers off and let them dry in the sun.”

Interest caught in his gaze before he could hide it, his attention dipping toward your body before he forcefully redirected it to your face. “I’m surprised you don’t have swimwear on you. Aren’t you meant to be prepared for any situation?”

“Well, if my quarry gets stranded at sea, I don’t think I’d be able to swim him to shore,” you said. “I’m a strong swimmer but he’s a bit heavy.”

“I’ve actually been told I’m lighter as a bird,” he said. “Though maybe not with waterlogged feathers.”

“We should see.”

You tugged again. Marco answered with enough strength to lift you toward him, and you let the momentum carry you onto the rock. Your foot found slick stone instead of solid footing. It slid beneath you and your shoulder struck his chest hard enough to drive him back half a step.

His hand left yours and caught your waist. Your palms landed against his shoulders as he pulled you firmly against him, keeping both of you clear of the water.

Wet cloth pressed cold between your bodies. His skin remained warm beneath it, almost hot, and droplets gathered along his collarbone before slipping beneath the open edge of his vest. His arm shuddered where it held you, but his grip only tightened.

You looked up to meet his eyes. “Something wrong?” you asked. “Didn’t think you were the type to be intimidated by a woman being a little wet.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m perfectly fine, yoi. I already told you a few drops won’t do much to me.”

You stepped closer, moving until you were fully pressed against him; soaked clothes resting against his skin as you smiled. “What about now?”

His eyes darkened and his gaze dipped down before his attention suddenly snapped over your shoulder. Marco shook his head as though coming out of a daze and the hand around your waist stabilised you before he moved away.

“I’ll bring you something dry.”

He transformed in a rush of blue flame, shooting up into the sky with a beat of his wings. You turned your head to watch him go, fire catching against the clouds. Then you noticed the small group approaching along the beach and the interaction suddenly made perfect sense.

You slipped from the rock and waded your way back to the shore. Without the distraction of Marco, the annoyance of sand in your hair and clothes was quickly getting to you.

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to request permission to go and change,” you said to Jozu.

He looked at you and then back toward the sky where Marco had disappeared. “Go change. Did he drop you in the water?”

Ah, that probably did look a little strange to an outsider’s perspective.

You pressed your lips together and tried to seem unbothered. “I was moving around a lot and I sort of squirmed out of his hold. We were barely above the water anyway so… he’s going off to get me something dry.”

Jozu didn’t seem convinced in the slightest. “I’ve watched Marco carry men double your weight with ease,” he said. “There’s no way you managed to just drop free.”

You shrugged. “I’m quite squirrely.”

He hummed and nodded. “Go ahead,” he said. “But I need to speak to Pops about this.”

You winced in sympathy. Marco absolutely had another intervention coming his way. You just wondered if they’d realised who the common denominator in his apparently ‘odd’ behaviour was.

Taglist: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @mollys--stuff ; @laserbeyza ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @ilovedreming ; @sylmischi ; @appalost ; @moon-shampoo ; @charukii 

Kid glared at you. A faint flush sat high across his face and his breathing came heavier than it should have, though he’d only crossed the doorway. Worse was the uncertainty beneath his glare. It looked so unnatural on him that you kept watching as you gathered the syringes from the floor.

“Need to talk to you.”

“About?”

He opened his mouth and almost immediately, a rough cough tore its way from his chest. His hand flew to his mouth. It was an awful, wet and choking sound. You winced in sympathy.

“You’re sick,” you said, walking over slowly. “Any other symptoms aside from the cough?”

“Fuck off,” he muttered.

“You came to me,” you reminded him. He hadn’t lowered his hand yet. “I’d like to know what you have before I treat it. And also, so if you drop dead in the middle of the deck, I can explain myself before Killer takes my head off.”

You’d meant it as a light-hearted tease. Kid was healthy enough that most illnesses he might contract didn’t bother you much. But the second he lowered his hand, the humour disappeared from your heart.

Lying amongst the specks of blood were two petals. One had folded against the wet centre of his palm, its edges trembling faintly with every rough breath.

Your heart and your stomach twisted at the same time. The medical knowledge blended together with a truly disgusting disappointment. One you had no right to feel.

And yet it almost broke your professionalism.

Almost.

“Ah,” you said.

“Don’t fucking ‘ah’ me!” he snapped.

You reached out slowly and picked up one of the petals. Its damp, bloodied state wrinkled your nose, but the petal itself was strangely delicate. You’d never thought the rumours of this disease were even true. And yet…

“Do you know anything about this ailment?” you asked.

“Ailment?” he snorted. “I just thought one of these idiots has been feeding me flowers.”

He scoffed but he knew that wasn’t the case. You could see it in the defensive set to his shoulders and the grimace of his lips.

“They’re growing in your lungs,” you said. “From what I know, the cause is fairly simple. Unreciprocated love.”

You hated saying it. Disliked it even more when Kid’s eyes narrowed at you in response and his expression told you that he’d already known that. You rolled the petal between your fingers and then put it on your desk carefully. You’d need it to do some further research in the morning.

“The good news is, you’re not going to die within the week,” you told him. “It’s in its early stages for now.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he muttered. “Started this morning.”

“So, what’s your plan to fix it?”

The syringes on your desk moved. Their needles turned toward Kid and you immediately reached for a box and placed it firmly over them before he could impale himself in irritation.

“You’re the doctor!” he snapped. “Why don’t you tell me how to fix it? How do I make this shit stop?!”

“The cause points fairly clearly toward the cure. If you fix the unreciprocated love, you fix the flowers. But I can’t do that for you.”

The boxes on your shelving were beginning to rattle. The metal tools inside shivered against one another with an awful, screeching sound. You looked toward them with a small sigh.

“Seems like a pretty stupid time to tell somebody you’re interested in them,” he said through gritted teeth. “What if they don’t care? You’re not going to change that by coughing up fucking flowers into their laps!”

“I need you to repel instead of attract,” you said as the needles of the syringes hit the sides of the box with soft plinking sounds.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Watch me,” you responded. “Repel. Or you’re going to end up buried under a pile of my supplies and I’m going to have to dig you out.”

“Are you saying I can’t control my fruit?”

“Prove to me you can.”

He scoffed and the tools stopped moving. You eased some of the pressure on the box but kept your hand firmly over it. Kid had very good control over his magnetism but it never hurt to ensure he didn’t impale himself.

He coughed again, much softer as though he kept it locked in his chest through irritation alone.

“Thank you,” you said. “Now, my first actual question is do you know if it’s actually unreciprocated or are you assuming? Like have you said something, not yelled it, before?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” you reminded him, even as it stung at the edges of your heart.

“Yeah, well don’t bother. I don’t need to sit here and worry myself over some stupid flower petals when we have actual problems.”

He turned on his heel and marched from the room. You watched the door slam shut and looked down at the petal on your desk. The bright red turned your stomach even as it began to dry. Kid wasn’t going to share the source of the disease. It was time to look for a cure.

But you had no idea where to start.

You told the rest of the crew he was ill and took to collecting the petals – despite his very, very loud complaints about both. Most of the petals were red and though a few varied in colour, the majority shared the same shade. You weren’t sure if it meant anything. But you were skipping over no details in your research.

Most of what you found was useless. There were artistically rendered plants curling through painted lungs, long passages about the purity and suffering of love, and far too many accounts that ended with a name and a date of death. Those were the only records that offered anything practical.

You bought every book that mentioned the disease. At each port, you cornered doctors in cramped offices and overcrowded clinics, asking for notes, case histories, anything they had kept. More than once, Kid’s coughing carried through an open window or down the street behind you, wet and unmistakable, and you kept talking as though you couldn’t hear it.

It wasn’t great. Desperation grew in you much like the flowers in his lungs. There had to be a solution but what it was…

When you worked out a progression chart, you cornered him in his workshop.

The room smelled of iron when you stepped in. There were too many petals here for your comfort, gathering on the desk and in the corners. They looked wrong among the wrought metal and iron dust, too soft and bright for anything in Kid’s workshop. He immediately gave you a look, mouth opening as though to tell you to get out. You beat him to speaking.

“The moment it progresses from petals to flowers, you need to tell me.”

“I’m not giving you a fucking inventory!”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You came to me first. That means that I’m now responsible for monitoring how bad this gets. So, if it gets worse, you tell me.”

“I didn’t go there to get myself a fucking nanny,” he retorted. “Why don’t you go back and wait for an actual injury to arrive? Wire’ll probably slice his stomach open again.”

You put your hands firmly on the table in front of his metal arm. A thin layer of dust and iron shavings pressed into your palms. “And if he did, I think I’d have a better chance of keeping him alive than you right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“I firmly disagree.”

The door opened before he could retort. Both your heads snapped toward Killer, who paused on the threshold without looking particularly interested in whatever he had interrupted. Fine. If Kid wasn’t going to be forthcoming, you knew who actually respected your knowledge.

“Killer, if you see him cough up even one flower, tell me immediately.”

“Okay.”

“Hey!” Kid snapped. “Don’t set spies on me on my ship! If there’s a problem, I can tell you myself!”

“Will you?”

Whatever answer he wanted to give you was lost in a sudden flurry of coughs. You watched another red petal drift to the ground. It was a raw and uncomfortable sound; like air pushing through leaves. You winced in sympathy.

“Is it contagious?” Killer asked.

“Not from what I know,” you said. “It’s rare. Very much so but there’s always a chance of it developing if somebody chooses not to share. But it is fatal. If it gets worse, I think I’ll have to contact Trafalgar.”

Kid’s glare pierced through you. “What the fuck does he have to do with this shit?”

“I think he might be able to remove the infection,” you said. “He could take your lungs out with minimum damage and find out if there’s a physical source. It’s only speculation on my side but seeing as you’re insisting on the hard cure instead of the easy one…”

“There’s an easy cure?” Killer asked.

“Yes. Easier for most people at least. If he would just open his mouth and talk for a second, he’d be fine.”

“Would it still count if it was yelling? Because that’s more likely.”

“Don’t you start now!” Kid barked.

You gave him a look and made your way out the workshop, mind running far too fast. The Victoria felt colder than ever, even when you stood on the deck in the sun. Trafalgar wasn’t a bad option. If there was a physical plant, he would be the best choice to remove it.

If you could convince him to help.

It took less than two days for Killer to rap his knuckles against the metal door of your office. “He’s struggling to breathe.”

Kid had been very good at avoiding you. You’d hoped to observe him going about his usual day but that felt impossible anymore. Even finding him when you were looking turned out to be difficult until you cornered him near the helm.

You snuck up on him, feeling rather like a cat approaching a particularly skittish bird, and caught his arm, hands firm against his bicep.

“Hey!”

“No,” you said. “I’m examining you.”

He tugged on his arm. He could have taken it back. You knew he was strong enough to, even while he coughed up petals, but he followed you to the infirmary with little more than a barked complaint.

“Stay here,” you said after he was sitting on one of your beds.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re overreacting.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. How’s your breathing been?”

“Still breathing.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“You’ve heard me breathe.”

You gave him a look and he dragged in an exaggerated breath, only for it to break apart into a violent cough. Petals splattered over his hand and the metal floor. At least six or seven, flecked with blood. You leaned down to pick them up, purposefully not looking at him until they were on your desk. You reached for your stethoscope.

“Has it been interrupting your sleep?”

“Listen to my damn lungs and leave the rest alone.” His voice rasped painfully before he cleared his throat.

He said it far too quickly for that to not have been an answer in its own right.

You stepped closer and put a hand on his right shoulder. He stiffened before he allowed you to push him straight, nudging his arm down so you could examine his chest easier.

“Do you know what I don’t understand?” you asked as you held the stethoscope to his side. “You’ve never had any problems telling people what you think of them before. What’s so different about this?”

That had long been the reason you never acted on your own feelings. You couldn’t imagine a world where Kid, of all people, didn’t immediately follow what he wanted. If he shared your interest, you felt confident that you would have known by now.

He didn’t answer you.

One lung was definitely stronger than the other. His right one made a terrible crackling sound every time he inhaled though the left wasn’t without flaw either.

You pressed your lips together. “Shirt off.”

For a second, he didn’t move. He was staring at you with an unreadable, almost accusatory expression. As though a forced medical exam for the disease was the same as making him jump into the ocean.

You tapped your foot impatiently. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Kid pulled the shirt off and dropped it to his side. You stepped around him and listened again, hoping to any god that would listen that you had just heard the fabric moving. His breaths rasped and the fear you’d been keeping at bay moved forward.

This wasn’t a mysterious disease that existed only as a name on a page. You could hear the obstruction in his lungs clearly.

You hung the stethoscope around your neck and stepped away. “If you die because of this, I’m going to be so fucking pissed. Have you coughed up any blood without the petals?”

“No,” he muttered. “Just these stupid things. Why are they red anyway? In all those books of yours, they’re pink or white.”

“No idea,” you admitted, not missing the confession that he’d been looking through your books when you weren’t around. “Maybe they’re taking the colour from your hair. They’ll turn you grey within the next month.”

“Funny.”

You hummed and picked up a tongue depressor. “Open.”

He clicked his tongue but followed your instructions. His throat was red and inflamed. You could see a petal stuck at the back and you gently pulled it out with a pair of tweezers. Kid’s nose wrinkled at the sensation.

You examined it under the light and sighed. “I wish you would help me here. I do like you alive and breathing.”

He immediately leaned away from you, arm crossing over his chest. “Really no other way to make this shit stop?”

“Not from what I’ve learned,” you said. “Maybe you can buy yourself some more time if you avoid the source but that’s mostly a rumour. No evidence to prove it helps. And I imagine it isn’t anybody on board the Victoria anyway so…”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

The words hurt to admit but you said them anyway. “I just can’t imagine you not telling somebody when you see them every day. That’s all.”

“Can’t say anything at all when there’s flowers everywhere.”

“That’s actually a pretty good reason to do it,” you pointed out.

“Why? To blackmail the ‘right’ response?”

Another coughing fit began and you quickly pulled the stethoscope free to listen at his side. His right lung was really struggling to draw breath. The laboured pulls made your heart twist horrifically.

The disease was progressing quicker than it should have. If there was another way to get this removed, it would have to be your solution.

“You’re being stubborn,” you muttered as he finished. “You know that right?”

“Shut up.”

“At best, you have a few weeks before you’re bringing up full flowers. And at that point, we’re almost out of options.” You stepped away to get a glass of water from the sink. “I think it’s time to decide what you’re going to do.”

Kid rubbed his chest and roughly thumped against it with a fist. A couple more petals escaped as he did so.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Do I need to schedule a reroute?”

“No. Something else. Stop worrying about this, would you? I don’t want you fussing over flowers if somebody’s actually dying.”

“I hate to tell you this but you’re the one that’s actually dying.”

“Whatever. You done?”

You held out the glass of water to him. “With the examination, yes but –”

“Good.”

Kid stood, grabbed his shirt from the table and marched out the medical bay. You watched him go, water still held out in front of you until you stopped hearing his boots down the hall.

The petals worsened while you waited for him to ‘figure it out’ and you stopped gathering them, unable to store nearly enough. They weren’t helping your research anyway. You dumped most over the side of the ship and let them float away, swallowed by the surf.

Eventually, waiting was going to take too long.  

Kid could hate you when he could breathe again. For now, you spoke to the others about possible rerouting to search for the Heart Pirates. It would be far from easy to track them down and your time was already short. If they even help… well, you’d have to figure that part out first then.

You were busy making notes of the progression of his symptoms, scratching down proof of his deterioration with a steady hand, when the door flew open once more.

The ink skipped over the page, bleeding through it steadily. You looked up.

Kid closed the door behind him this time before he approached, each breath lifting his chest in a shallow pull beneath his coat. His face was pale beneath his usual anger and fresh blood lingered at the corner of his mouth.

He crossed the room and threw something onto your desk. It landed across your notes with a wet, heavy sound. A complete flower lay across the paper, its crimson petals spread wide and slick with blood almost the same shade.

Kid didn’t meet your eyes. He glared firmly at the air beside you as you nudged the flower with the back of your pen.

“Alight,” you said. “We can’t mess around with this anymore. Either we speak to Trafalgar to see if he can remove it or you need to talk to whoever this is for.”

Kid’s jaw tightened. His arm twitched over his chest. You waited, unwilling to yield even as panic curled through your own heart like a traitorous poison. Part of you dreaded learning who the flower was for, but that selfishness had no place here. Not when the answer might be the only thing capable of stopping it.

“This is fucking stupid,” he muttered.

“Unfortunately, sickness is rarely fair,” you said. “I would be grateful that it’s something with a solution rather than something incurable. It could always be worse.”

He finally met your eyes. “And if I say it and they still don’t want me? Then what?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know what’ll happen because this is a very rare disease to begin with. Any details I can find are anecdotal at best. But isn’t it at least worth a try if it can fix all this?”

He shrugged.

“You’re going to die choking on flowers if you don’t. Do you really want me to have to put ‘died from being stubborn’ on your grave?”

“Fuck off. If you put that shit on my grave, I’m coming back to toss you in the ocean.”

“Honestly, I’d rather not have to think about what I want to write on a headstone at all,” you said. “So, can I contact Trafalgar? I’ll talk to him and see if he’s going to be able to remove at least some of the blockage. It might not be a full cure but it can fix some of it until you grow a pair.”

Kid’s eye twitched faintly and his lip curled up. “Are you calling me a coward?”

Good. He was getting annoyed. Maybe if you pressed on his pride enough, he’d just snap and do it so you could eliminate it as an option. Either it worked or… or you had to keep searching but at least it was a chance.

You’d take any chance at this point.

“Yes,” you said simply.

Red was creeping up his neck as he turned to you fully. “You don’t know anything about this shit.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t and as much as I could guess, that won’t get me any further. I know you probably haven’t found some random woman on the coast and decided she’s worth dying for so at least it narrows it down to people I know. I suppose I should just ask Killer, right? You two have always had the same taste.”

“Don’t get him involved in this crap.”

“What other option do I have?” you asked. “I have no solution. You certainly haven’t brought me some miracle cure over the past few days and you can’t punch it out of your own lungs. I know of exactly one magical surgeon who has the potential to help and that’s it.”

Kid scoffed. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You haven’t shut up about him for days.”

“What?”

“Constantly fucking yapping about Trafalgar,” he said. “Keep saying his name like that and I’ll dump you on his deck myself.”

You picked up the flower from your desk and created a small circle with your thumb and index finger. “Do you see this?” you asked. “This is the size of your trachea, okay?” You placed the flower against it and tried to tug it through. It barely fit. “Do you see why I’m so worried about the next one?”

“Obviously I know what the problem is!” he snapped. “I’m the one who brought the thing up!”

“Then why are you so annoyed that I’m asking somebody else to help keep you alive?” you asked.

“Never said I cared about it. Just mentioned that it’s all you’ve been going on about.”

“Because I don’t have anything else! Every book I read and every person I speak to says that this is fatal! And I think I have a better chance of nagging you into a surgery than I do at forcing you to speak about your feelings!”

He glowered but there was something closer to uncertainty behind his expression. “There has to be another cure.”

You tossed the flower down and stood finally, bracing your hands against the desk. “That’s why I’m thinking about the one fruit that I know might be able to help.”

“It doesn’t make sense anyway,” he said. “I’m not the only person on this ship who’s kept his mouth shut about something this stupid. How come nobody else has had to deal with a fucking plant in their chest?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why it chose you when it could have just as easily taken to my lungs. But what I do know is that if it had, I would be damned before I sat around here making the rest of you watch me slowly suffocate!”

“Guess it would have been easier if that happened, right? We’d just change directions and fix it within the week.”

“What are you on about?”

Kid gestured and your desk lamp began to topple. You caught it and shoved it under your table before it spilled paraffin over everything.

“If you caught this fucking disease,” he said. “And you were covering my ship in rose petals or whatever the hell they are –”

“This is a tulip,” you told him.

“I don’t care! I’m just saying it would be simpler because then we could load you up and send you to profess your love at the bottom of the sea without having to worry about fucking up anything here!”

He’d confused you enough that you had to take a second to respond. A small cough took over him while you processed the implications. Two petals dropped to the floor.

“Are you implying that I’m in love with some random surgeon I’ve met a grand total of once?” you asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Only met him once but you never stop talking about him.”

“Because he’s the only doctor I know who could open your lungs without killing you! If that little rat thing on Straw Hat’s crew could do it, I’d have sailed us there instead!”

Kid blinked at you, the glare remaining as though he had forgotten to let it drop. The desk gave a low scrape beneath your palms. You glanced down as its metal feet dragged a fraction across the floor. Unusual. Even when annoyed, Kid rarely disturbed the furniture.

“Then who?” he asked.

“What?”

“You said you could have caught this,” he said. “Imagine you did. Where the hell would we be sailing to?”

You stepped around the desk and walked closer so you stood in front of him, head tilted up. “What? Do you want some kind of exchange? Where I give you my secret and you tell me yours? If that was all you wanted, you should have asked me days ago. I’ll tell you anything if you give me a solution.”

He breathed out through his nose slowly. You waited. His gaze flicked to the flower where it lay on the table and then back to you.

“Fine,” he said. “Where would we go?”

The confession lodged briefly in your throat. Then Kid dragged in another shallow breath, and embarrassment stopped mattering.

“We wouldn’t need to change course at all,” you said. “I wouldn’t even step out of this room.”

Recognition flickered over Kid’s face too quickly. It was replaced by an irritation that didn’t fit well enough; a default expression he couldn’t hide behind right now.

“Say it clearer.”

You gave him a look. “You’re not stupid, captain. And there’s no invisible man standing in the corner.”

“Doesn’t matter. Say it better than that.”

“It’s you,” you said. “If I got sick, I would have come to tell you.”

He grabbed your arm without warning and pulled you into him, lips against yours before you had a second to realise what was happening. He tasted like blood. Awful and sharp against your palate and yet you kissed him back without hesitation.

There was no thought behind it. No sensible pause to question why. Your arms were caught against his chest as he dragged you closer until there was no space between you. He kissed with the same aggression he brought to everything else; his teeth caught your lip, and his grip tightened when you tried to pull back for air.

Metal shifted throughout the room.

Something struck the floor behind you. Your chair scraped against the ground as the instruments in your drawers rattled against one another.

Years of wanting him rose through you all at once. Every feeling you had forced quieter broke loose beneath the pressure of his mouth. You could feel his heart hammering against your arms, could taste the blood on his mouth and your thoughts stumbled back into place.

You pulled back sharply.

Your breathing came unevenly and his was even worse, each inhale rough and rasping.

“Your turn,” you said.

Kid had frozen, his shoulders tense and his jaw tight. “You need more of an answer?”

You snatched the flower from your desk and threw it against his chest. “You nearly died for me! You absolute bastard, yes! I need more than a fucking kiss! Do you have any idea how much I’ve been worried! Any idea of how… I want to hear your fucking reason for why you didn’t just tell me at the beginning!”

The metal in the room quietened. Something clattered loudly to the ground nearby but neither of you looked to it.

Then he shrugged. “Didn’t want some pity lie just because I was choking.”

“Fine,” you said. “But why not before you brought up triple your lung capacity in flower petals?!”

“Just didn’t think you were interested.”

“In what?” you said. “In you? How would you ever think that?! I’ve been in love with you for so long that it’s a running joke amongst all the other women!”

He flinched at that. Good. He deserved to.

“I was going to tell you,” he said. “When I saw the fucking petals, I figured I’d just come here and say something to get it to stop. But then you saw the damned things and I couldn’t just say it anymore.”

“Yes, you could have.”

“You would have pretended even if you didn’t care.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You’d say whatever kept me breathing. Don’t act like you wouldn’t.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “Because I’m in love with you. And, by the way, you still haven’t told me.”

“Fine!” he snapped. “You need me to tell you it directly? You. It’s been you since that first time you came at me with a needle and told me my arm would rot off.”

You stilled, momentarily paused because that… that was ages ago. That was long before you’d even agreed to follow him around the world. That was back when you still found him intimidating and you’d yet to learn that for all the bluff, staring him down was the best way to quieten his moods.

“What?” he barked when you were quiet for too long. “Don’t stare at me like that.”

You shook your head. “Kid… You know… I just… fuck you.”

You gave up looking for words and just reached for him instead. He met you halfway, mouth harsh against yours as you dragged him to you. Relief pushed through the last of your anger as you focused on just him.

Then he coughed.

You tore yourself away immediately.

He bent forward, bracing himself against the edge of your desk as the coughs dragged through him. They sounded just as vicious as before, deep enough to turn your stomach and for a horrible moment, you feared the cure was as much a myth as you’d thought the disease had been.

You caught his shoulder just as something fell from his mouth and splattered over the floor.

Not another full flower. Nothing fresh or bright.

The petals were wilted, curling in on themselves. You knelt down to consider them and Kid wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he coughed once more and inhaled.

You looked up at him. “Go sit on one of the beds.”

“I’m fine.”

“You said that when you sounded like you had gravel in your lungs. Go.”

He glared but sat on one of the beds anyway, grumbling beneath his breath while you grabbed a stethoscope. You tugged up his shirt before he could protest and pressed it against his ribs.

The crackling hadn’t disappeared completely. His lungs still sounded irritated and you suspected they would be for some time after everything he’d put them through but the obstruction was easing. Air moved where it hadn’t before.

The relief almost hurt as you breathed out.

“Feels better,” he muttered.

“Good. Then it’ll feel even better tomorrow. You’re staying here to rest until I can be certain it’s continuing to improve.”

Kid’s eyes narrowed. “What? No.”

“You have potentially damaged lungs, and blood loss so I need to watch you. And it’s also punishment,” you said. “For making me stress so much.”

He gave you a flat look but didn’t try to stand again.

You kissed him once more, to be certain he was still there. His lips still carried a trace of iron but his breathing had steadied. Each inhale came deeper than the last, no longer catching whatever had been growing inside him.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @ilovedreming ; @moon-shampoo

Usopp snatched it and stalked back inside. He barely scanned over what Luffy had written – he really didn’t understand why everybody was so obsessed with every word on these things – as he wrote down a quick greeting and a description.

Nami and Robin had both been trying to send letters by themselves but Luffy’s friend had apologised and said she wasn’t receiving anything. So Usopp had a better idea.

After all, she always found Luffy’s letters.

He retied it when it was done and fought with the thin twine to make sure it was secure when the ship suddenly flung itself hard to the side.

Usopp barely managed to grab onto the table before he flew from the chair as everything tilted, slipping and sliding. The teacup tumbled from the table and landed, thankfully, on the carpet before it continued to roll under the chair.

He jumped to his feet and rushed to the door, slowly peeking around the corner to look out on the deck. Just in case they needed his help.

Instead, he heard Nami’s yell, sharper than any knife.

“I didn’t need a demonstration of how fast we can bank! I was asking for an estimate!”

Usopp breathed out a sigh of relief. Good. That meant there probably wasn’t any actual damage.

He made his way back to the men’s cabins and ducked down to look beneath the chair. There was nothing there but dust bunnies and a relatively large clump of Chopper’s hair. No teacup.

He stood and frowned. It couldn’t have gone that far right?

He checked under the rest of the furniture. Then all the corners of the room. Then under the chair twice more and still came up with nothing. He straightened and rubbed his chin. And checked one more time. To be sure.

Luffy was not going to be happy if he didn’t bring that letter back.

A bead of sweat rolled down Usopp’s face. He kind of remembered what was on it, right? And he could definitely imitate the original information, find another teacup, and then it would be fine.

He grabbed a piece of paper and his pen, sat down, groaned and dropped his head on the table. What had been said?

Hi secret friend I never thought to tell my crew about.

Hey! This is from Luffy…

Today I saw a seagull and it stole my breakfast. But not to fear the brilliant Captain Usopp shot the food from its mouth with such perfect trajectory that it went through the first gull and hit an even bigger one. Bigger than the entire Sunny! It crashed into the water and sent a massive wave that knocked over the first teacup so please don’t send this one back for a few days!

Also, please send back Usopp’s favourite toolkit (it’s the one with the star on the outside).

That sounded… right?

It was Luffy. He wasn’t out here writing poetry or anything. It’s not like this friend of his would know just from one letter and then tell him… right? Usopp drew a messy photo of the seagull for extra emphasis before he rushed to the kitchen to find a teacup.

There weren’t any.

He cursed under his breath and tried to find a replacement before he settled on one of Chopper’s long-discarded medical books, shoved the letter between the pages, and marched back to the deck.

He would tell Luffy that this was a much better option because Chopper wouldn’t even be looking for it.

But his plans were foiled when he saw Luffy sitting next to his workbench with a letter in hand and a broad grin in place. His toolkit sat on top of the bench.

Usopp opened the book to look at his replacement letter and frowned.

“Usopp! She sent your tools back!” Luffy called with a wave. “You threw it already?”

“I… Did I?”

“Also, hi. She said I must say it back.”

Usopp climbed the steps a little too quickly and pulled his fake letter out, looking at the definitely real one in Luffy’s hands which asked if it was the right kit. He hadn’t thrown the teacup into the ocean at all.

“That’s weird,” he said.

“What is?”

“I didn’t throw it into the ocean. It went under the chair.”

Luffy frowned. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Huh, weird. Anyway, she says I mustn’t send that again because it might rust.”

The weird situation bothered Usopp a little more than it should. He watched his captain throwing random items in the ocean and wondered how that first letter had done so when Luffy insisted, beyond reasonable doubt, that the letters had to go in the sea.

And it definitely wasn’t because his toolkit already had rust on it.

He checked the room again that evening before bed. He was sure there was no cup there and it hadn’t jumped into the ocean without him knowing.

“Maybe there’s a crack in the wall?” Luffy suggested from his bunk.

“What? Not a chance!” Franky responded immediately. “Walls and windows in here are sealed tight! Not even a drop is getting through!”

“Okay but that’s the weird part, right?” Usopp asked. “If you have to throw a letter into the ocean to send it, then how did she get it after it went under a chair?”

“I dunno. Maybe somebody else saw it and threw it in the water for me.”

“Nobody else was here.”

Luffy still seemed unconvinced so the next morning, Usopp demanded a very important experiment. He recreated exactly what had happened which, infuriatingly, led to him finding the eggbeater where it should be.

He left it there for an hour and made everybody get out the room. But when he came back, the utensil still waited with Luffy’s letter. Luffy who, growing annoyed, tossed it into the ocean himself and got a reply half an hour later.

It seemed back to normal.

But Usopp couldn’t stop thinking about it.

A moving island that scooped up random items from the ocean? And sometimes not from the ocean? It could be following them, maybe? Although they would have seen it by then.

The entire story sounded like something of a legend which gave him a very important idea.

He waited until they made land to grab Luffy by the back of his vest and drag him down the gangplank into town, already thinking. If he could find anybody who knew a story that sounded even vaguely familiar…

“I need to ask questions,” Usopp said. “About the island?”

Luffy tossed his head back in complaint. “What island? Sanji’s making lunch soon!”

“Your friend’s island. The sooner we get there, the sooner you stop throwing everybody’s stuff into the ocean!”

“I said sorry!”

“But you’re still doing it!”

The port was busier than most they had visited recently. There were plenty of ships moving through here and even more crewmen cluttered over the harbour. Perfect. These were the types of men who talked and Usopp knew, better than anyone, that if an island was disappearing and appearing over the Grand Line, there had to be a legend floating around somewhere.

Usopp stopped beside an older fisherman repairing a net on a barrel. “Excuse me,” he said in the respectful tone of a great explorer speaking to a local expert. “Have you ever heard of an island that moves?”

The man didn’t look up. “Sure have.”

Usopp brightened. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s out in the bay. When the tide comes in, it grows smaller and when it goes out, gets bigger. You can walk to it now.”

“That could be it,” Luffy said earnestly.

Usopp sighed. “Not unless she lives on this island only.”

“She could.”

It was just a sand bank. They checked.

A fish merchant told them about a moving island which sounded promising until he clarified that it was just several smaller ships, chained together into a big one.

One local woman promised she’d seen an island that disappeared into the mist although she also started that story by claiming she’d just finished proving she could drink an entire barrel of rum in one sitting. Luffy still nodded thoughtfully as though this was the most important fact they had.

By the time they reached the far end of the market, Usopp was starting to believe every person there drank too much and didn’t know the difference between a ship and an island. One woman kept them busy for ten minutes talking about a whale that apparently had a group of mermaids living with it.

A smell drifted through the street and Usopp nearly walked straight into Luffy’s back. His head toward a food stall across the square where a man was turning thick pieces of meat over an open flame.

“We’re not done –”

Luffy was gone before Usopp even managed to get a word out. He watched him go and sighed.

“Of course,” he said, mainly to himself. “Sure. Legendary, moving island. Unimportant but one piece of meat…”

A chair scraped against the stone behind him and Usopp looked over his shoulder.

Two men sat outside the nearest tavern with a bottle between them. Both were weathered from years at sea, their clothes patched and faded beneath heavy coats. And they were both watching Usopp with an interest he wasn’t sure he liked. They had weapons on their hips.

“You looking for a moving island?” one asked.

Usopp froze. It was a lead… from a pair of men who sounded like they were a little territorial over it.

He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. “What? Me? No. Never. Couldn’t be. I’m just a baker’s son who happened to hear about some little legend and wanted to find out more but I’d never go looking myself. Far too dangerous.”

That sounded convincing. He wasn’t a threat. He tried to sway them with his eyes into believing that he was merely curious.

The two men exchanged a look and then one nodded to the chair next to them with a grin.

“Smart kid,” he said. “Too many go looking for that story and end up on the rocks for it.”

Usopp approached slowly and pulled out the chair. He sat backwards on it in case he needed to make a quick escape, folding his arms over the top. “Really? Why would anybody go looking for it? I thought it just moved.”

They grinned and the one on the left chuckled. “Oh, it moves alright. There’s plenty of big ships out there and weird islands but this one’s special. It’s always on the horizon. Never any closer. If you try to sail toward it, it just disappears again.”

These guys didn’t sound too safe. They were clearly a little tipsy but there was almost a threat lying under their tone. But finding Luffy’s friend was the best way to keep his possessions dry.

“So then why go to it at all?”

“Legend has it that if you can make land, you’ll find treasure beyond your imagination,” the other said. “If you take a look through your monocular when you see it, you’ll be able to notice just how many chests are piled high on the sand.”

Usopp frowned. “There’s treasure on the island? Have you seen it?”

“The treasure, no,” the first said. “But the island? Aye, that we have. Twice now, we’ve seen it in the fog for only a moment.”

“Tempting, isn’t it?” asked the second. “The promise of all that money.”

Usopp laughed nervously and tried to remember he was avoiding looking too interested. “What? No. Never. I’m staying firmly on land. No treasure’s worth being out there where all the monsters and the storms are. But how does it move?”

They looked satisfied with his answer.

“No idea. Some say it’s on the back of a giant creature and sinks under the waves when you get too close. Doesn’t matter though how it does it. Just how you can get there.”

Usopp nodded and sat for a while longer, listening to them tell other stories so he genuinely seemed interested. Then he stood and awkwardly marched his way back to the ship, noticing a very key lack of Luffy anywhere around.

Sure enough, he’d returned for lunch and was sporting a rather large bump on the back of his head while Nami ate her meal nearby.

“I have a question,” Usopp said, planting his hands firmly on the table. “For your friend.”

Luffy didn’t even look up from his meal, nor bother to swallow before he answered. “Yeah? Do you need something else back?”

“It’s about her island,” Usopp said. “Or possibly. Any chance there’s a crazy amount of treasure there?”

Nami’s head snapped up immediately from the newspaper. “There’s treasure on her island? How much?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Usopp reassured quickly. “I found some drunks near one of the taverns and they overheard me mention a moving island. I pretended to be a baker’s son, you know, curious about the world but too scared of the ocean because when I was a child –”

“They knew it?” Nami asked. “And they said there’s treasure there?”

Usopp gave her a look for the interruption but nodded. “Apparently. They said there was a lot and treasure hunters know about a place that appears on the horizon and disappears when you sail toward it. Any chance it’s hers?”

Luffy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Can you ask?”

“Yeah. After lunch.”

Nami stood up. “No. Now.”

A very grumpy Luffy scribbled a one sentence letter out, tied it to the closest item and threw it into the ocean so he could eat in peace. You noticed the letter right as you sank into your bath, steam warm and reassuring around you.

The meat fork balanced precariously on your towel rack and you sighed, stood and dried your hands and took it before it tumbled into the water. Did it have to appear there?

Nami and Usopp want to know if you have treasure on your island. Important.

Luffy was clearly eating when he sent it. You could see from the smudged fingerprints around the outside and you laughed, pleased. You stepped out the bath, removed a thimble that plopped in afterwards, and wrapped a towel around yourself. If it was urgent, you really shouldn’t keep them waiting.

You padded through the house, leaving dark footprints across the floorboards, and grabbed your camera before making your way to the ‘expensive things’ room. The door had swollen in its frame again and resisted until you wrapped both hands around the handle and leaned your weight back. When it finally opened, the light caught on crowded stacks of coins, tarnished silver, cracked jewels and gold piled so carelessly that some of it had spilled across the floor. You snapped the quickest photo you could before a leaning box decided to collapse.

A scarf had found its way over one of the chests. You pulled it free, locked the room again and glanced toward the window where the sky had darkened to a churning grey.

It was a nice scarf at least.

You hung the scarf over one of the racks and pulled a soaking photo album from the bath. The pages had already swollen beyond saving and you had no idea who it belonged to, so you dropped it carefully into the corner before sinking back into the warm water and sending the letter back.

There was a storm coming soon. And you weren’t too fond of storms.

The meat fork was back in the dining room when Luffy finished eating his second plate, rolling out from beneath the table with the soft rocking of the ocean. He unrolled it and held the photo out to Nami and Usopp who both stared at it for a second.

Usopp whistled softly. He could almost hear the money sounds going off in Nami’s head.

“That’s… that’s a lot of gold,” he commented.

The photo showed a room, piled high with valuables. Treasure, jewels, gold, and more cluttered the interior. Nami snatched it and held it up to the light, eyes practically the shape of beri as she stared at it.

“All of this is just sitting there?” she asked. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Luffy handed the letter over and bit into another chunk of meat while Usopp read it aloud.

Sorry about the water on this one, I’m just taking a bath before the storm arrives. Sometimes I don’t get any water when that happens but here’s the best photo I can take.

The room’s not organised and I don’t always know what’s expensive or not. If it looks like it might get damaged by the rain, I shove it in here. At some point, I should sort it. If you want anything, I can try and send it to you in smaller containers that you’ve given me?

I have a few pieces that remind me of you.

“They weren’t wrong,” Usopp said. “There is treasure there…”

“We are finding this island,” Nami said firmly.

“Weren’t we looking before?” he asked.

“Yes, but now, there’s even more of a reason,” she said. “Luffy, have her send me some of those coins. I want to make sure they’re real.”

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