OP Delulu Land

“C’mon, Usagi,” Toji beckoned to you, curling his fingers into his palm. The gesture had a few drops of blood splattering on the floor. You got up and shuffled over to Toji, unsure if you could meet his gaze right now. Gojo – a high school student – was killed, and it was all your fault. 

“Someone’s gotta let her out. You, right? You’re S grade, yeah? So you can do it,” Toji demanded from Geto, who was rapidly paling. The other two younger students were looking at one another, the blond’s grasp on his sword tightening. You didn’t know what they were thinking but you hoped they wouldn’t try to fight Toji. If he’d defeated Gojo and Geto, none of the rest of them would stand a chance. But before Geto could respond, Shoko’s voice sounded out from outside the window.

“Geto, come here quickly!” Shoko’s panicked voice rang out. You weren’t sure what was happening but based on her tone, it was nothing good. 

“NOW!” Shoko screamed. With Shoko’s second yell, Geto bolted out of the room without care for his massive healing wound. The younger two students followed suit, running out the door. That left only you and Toji in the now quiet room. You didn’t really know what to say, what the appropriate words for someone who came to save you from being kidnapped. You licked your lips and settled on the simplest – there’d be time for more words later.

“Thank you, Toji,” you said, finally looking him in the face. He gave you an easy smirk that made your stomach flip. 

“No problem. Hadta get you back, yanno?” he replied, leaning against the doorframe. “C’mon, let’s get going. Gooms is with Shiu again and I think he’s gonna kill him if we don’t get back –”

“THROUGHOUT HEAVEN AND EARTH, I ALONE AM THE HONORED ONE,” you heard a voice yell from outside the room. Toji’s eyes narrowed as his smile fell. 

“C’mon. I’m not gonna leave you again,” Toji said, extending his calloused hand to you. Between that and his declaration that he needed to get you back, your heart was beating quickly. You were sure that it was only talk, just an easy way to express what he needed to. But even so, you didn’t think Naoya would ever say anything like that about you. If anything, he probably would have punished you for being kidnapped by Gojo. He still might if he found out what happened. You extended your smaller hand to Toji’s, but his fingers encircled your wrist instead of taking it in his own. 

“No time. Something’s happening. Gonna carry you,” he said, quickly pulling you close to him and picking you up bridal style. It all happened so quickly that you didn’t have a moment to consider how you felt before Toji was speeding through the buiding. It felt like you blinked once and you were by the gates of Jujutsu High, still held tightly in Toji’s arms. The students were all gathered and staring at the sky. Your gaze followed theirs and you saw a very alive, very strange looking Gojo. 

“Aw, what the fuck,” Toji gritted out, so quietly you were the only one who could hear him. Gojo landed on the ground a few meters in front of Toji, half his face still dripping blood. Toji’s arms tightened momentarily, cradling you further against his warm chest before loosening.

“Gotta deal with this. Some freaky shit is happening. Stay here,” Toji said, setting you gently on your feet. 

“Hey. It’s been a while,” Toji said, his smile maniacal. You shivered, this was not the Gojo you’d met before. Whatever had happened between him and Toji had caused some kind of irreparable change to Gojo. Toji was standing and staring at Gojo, as if caught completely unaware.

“For real?” Toji asked, his worm curling around his body. Toji moved in a slow circle away from you, leading Gojo in the opposite direction.

“I’m alive and kicking!” Gojo replied, pushing back his hair to show a healed wound on his head. You hadn’t seen Gojo without his glasses before, but now his blue eyes were open wide. His head was lolling from side to side, like he wasn’t in his right mind. 

“He’s high,” Geto interrupted from a few feet away. In the extreme situation, you hadn’t kept track of where everyone else was. 

“Yeah, no shit –”

“Cursed Technique Reversal: Red,” Gojo said while floating upside down. A small red ball formed in his hand before he flicked it towards you and Toji. It didn’t even seem like he was aiming his deadly technique all too carefully, aiming for the general area Toji was in. Shoko and the blond student had to run and jump out of the way to avoid being slaughtered by their own classmate. Before you could even react, Toji’s sword was out and he was being pushed back by the massive blow. 

“Toji!” you cried out, as he crashed into the building behind him. The sheer force of Gojo’s half hearted attack had shattered the outside of the building and created an impact crater where Toji stood. As the dust cleared, you gasped as you saw that he was bleeding from a wound on his head. Toji’s gaze flicked to yours, his face uncharacteristically open. He wore an expression of confusion and vulnerability rather than his usual cockiness. But just as quickly as it had come, his face shuttered again, and the self confidence you usually saw appeared in his easy half grin.

“These are all things I can handle,” Toji said, now swinging a chain with the sword attached to it as he looked up at a deranged Gojo. 

Toji POV

It had completely taken him out of the moment when you’d called out for him. Not because you’d done anything bad or interrupted his fighting. No, Toji was used to distractions during fights, it wasn’t that. What had really grabbed his attention was that it was like you cared about him. That you gave a shit that he could have died. No one had done that since Megumi’s mom was alive… but there was no time to think about that right now, he had to focus on how to take down the newly awakened Gojo and get you out of there.

When Toji saw Gojo initially, he was of a split mind. His gut was telling him to cut and run, that Gojo was now too powerful for Toji to deal with by himself. On the other hand, Toji really, really wanted to bring Gojo down again. He’d been told all his life that he was shit, that he’d never amount to anything, that he was inherently lesser for not having cursed energy, and all that despite being stronger than anyone else. Hell, he’d killed Gojo about ten minutes prior and that didn’t even count for anything anymore now that the kid had revived. His ego demanded that he fight Gojo, logic be damned.

But once you’d called out for him, your face drawn with tension, Toji’s plans had changed. He still needed to take care of Gojo in some kinda way, the kid was completely lost. And a dazed kid with unlimited power and the ability to regenerate was an issue. Normally, Toji would just think about himself, and what he needed to do in the situation. He still didn’t give a fuck about any of these sorcerer kids hanging around – if they wanted to get themselves killed, that wasn’t his problem. But you were here now, and Megumi was waiting for the both of you with Shiu. You couldn’t get out without  a sorcerer and they wouldn’t help unless he helped deal with Gojo. Something needed to be done, but Toji wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

“Satoru, this isn’t you!” Geto called out, his open robe swaying in the wind. There was something between those guys, but Toji didn’t care in the slightest what it was.

“Suguru,” Gojo replied softly, focusing all his attention on the other sorcerer. “I’m not even angry over you right now. It’s just that the world feels so, so wonderful right now.” Geto shifted his stance, widening his legs. 

“Suguru, should we kill these guys?” Gojo asked calmly, like he was asking if Geto wanted a cup of tea. Geto hissed as his eyes tracked the still floating Gojo. Toji tensed before swinging his sword again. If this was where the kid’s mind was at, he might need to be put down like a rabid dog.

“No, Satoru. There’s no point. There’s no point in creating more harm,” Geto replied. Gojo’s head tilted to the side, like that was a viewpoint he’d never considered before. Geto kept his eyes on Gojo as he ran over to stand next to Toji. One of Toji’s eye brows hiked – what the fuck was this now?

“I can deal with this alone,” Toji grunted, eyeing Gojo’s body in the sky. Gojo had gone lax, his limbs loose like he was resting on a beach instead of about to fight. Even so, Toji knew he was volatile, ready to strike at any moment. 

“No, you can’t! He’s too far gone. He’ll destroy everything and everyone here,” Geto said, his purple eyes only on Gojo. Toji thought back to the fight he’d had with Gojo earlier. He could probably still win, if he was careful.

“I’m strong enough –”

“Think about everyone else! Not just yourself, you dickhead!” Geto yelled. Toji rolled his eyes, the last thing he needed was to be scolded by some schoolboy. He had thought about you and Megumi, wasn’t that enough?

“Satoru!” Geto called out one last time. But the kid wasn’t listening to anyone, he was off in some lala land of sorcery or some bullshit.

“I won’t let you go this way!” Geto said, taking a fighting stance next to Toji. Toji sighed, this was becoming way more annoying than he had anticipated. He reached to the mouth of his worm, grabbing the end of a new weapon and pulling it out.

“Here, kid. If you’re gonna do this, you’ll need something better than your shitty technique,” Toji said with resignation. 

“I don’t need your help –”

“You do. You’re about one minute from keeling over. Take this. Don’t fuck it up, it’s one of my favorite weapons. Playful Cloud,” Toji said, handing over the tri-segemented staff. He didn’t even know why he was doing this, he didn’t care all that much about these kids. But still, if Geto was going to help, he might as well be useful.

“I have enough cursed energy –”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up. The staff doesn’t use cursed energy. It’ll help because you’re so physically weak and bad at fighting,” Toji groaned, already regretting helping the brat. Geto’s mouth slammed shut as he began poorly twirling the staff. Who the fuck was training these assholes? They fucking sucked at fighting. Two of the other kids were running towards Toji as well, taking up similar fighting poses next to Toji. What the fuck was happening? 

“Suguru. You’d stand against me?” Gojo asked, coming down to walk on the ground towards the other brat. Geto’s jaw clenched before he spoke again.

“I will. You’ve become –”

“The strongest,” Gojo finished, his smile sickeningly wide.

“A monster,” Geto replied, his eyes flashing. Toji tuned out as they began having some kind of intense, terse conversation together about whatever. He used Gojo’s momentary distraction to look for you, make sure you were okay. He immediately spotted you, that healer chick next to you again. Normally, he wouldn’t like her buddying up to you but she might be a good shield or be able to heal you if things really went south.

“We’ll help too,” some kid with black hair said. Toji didn’t even bother to respond, this punk was gonna be Gojo fodder.

“Mr. Assassin, I think I can help,” a young blond brat said courteously. Toji threw his chained sword at Gojo, aiming for his head again. Gojo considered it like it was a fly in his face before dodging it easily. Toji didn’t have time for fun and games with high school students any more, this problem needed to be solved. 

“Yeah, not sure about that,” Toji drawled as he thought about his next move. If direct attacks wouldn’t work, could he try to avoid detection and get Gojo that way? Or maybe Geto could use one of his shitty ass curses to…

“I can force a weak spot on Gojo using my technique,” the kid said. Now he had Toji’s full attention. Toji wasn’t one for working as a team, but he didn’t think there were any other ways around it given how strong and insane Gojo was at the moment.

“What?” Toji asked, already pulling out Black Rope. If the kid had a useful technique, he wouldn’t be able to use the Inverted Spear of Heaven. Otherwise, the sword would also nullify whatever the kid would be able to do, making his efforts useless. Toji didn’t like using the rope in battle, he’d gotten it in return for killing off some punk in Africa. The problem was that it burned shorter every time he used it, making it available fewer times. So this attack on Gojo better be worth the amount of rope it burned.

“My ratio technique forces a weak point on any target. If I use it on Gojo, maybe you can strike him hard enough to knock him out. It’s a 7:3 ratio, so the weak point should be right by his heart. You’ll see it,” the kid said, taking a sword out of a holster. 

“Got it. Could work, but we would need Gojo distracted,” Toji said, already thinking through the fight. “He’s too strong to take head on, I’d need to figure out…” Toji’s eyes slid over to Geto, who was now staring at Gojo intensely, some deep emotion running on his face as he watched Gojo walk around like an idiot. Fucking teenagers, Toji thought ruefully. Toji clapped Geto on the shoulder and pulled him back a step to join in the impromptu conference. 

“OK, kid. Your turn to be useful. This brat –

“Nanami Kento, sir –”

“Sure. Nanami is going to force a weak point on Gojo. You’re going to distract him so I can wrap this around him and kill– er, knock him out,” Toji explained quickly. He had nearly said he was going to kill Gojo from muscle memory. The kids probably fought as a team all the time, they could figure out this simple plan. They had one chance to get Gojo, and he didn’t want to waste it.

“Wh - how am I gonna do that?” Geto sputtered, still holding Playful Cloud like a security blanket. Toji took one last look at you before focusing entirely on what needed to happen.

“I don’t fucking know. That’s your job,” Toji said, taking off towards the forest surrounding the barrier. 

Gojo POV

Gojo slouched down in the leather chair in Masamichi’s office, familiar with the setting from the many times he’d been sent here before. It was so annoying to have to deal with Yaga right now, especially as he’d just become the strongest.

Well, maybe.

If Gojo was honest with himself, he still had a lot to learn. Sure, he now had mastery over the Six Eyes, limitless technique, and had finally understood RCT all within the span of one afternoon, but the four other guys in the office had still managed to knock him out. And that really shouldn’t have happened, Gojo thought with a scowl.

It hadn’t been a fair fight, Gojo thought sullenly as he crossed his arms over his chest. The four of them should have been easy pickings for him considering his new powers but they’d still managed to take him down. Which – it wasn’t like he was ever going to kill them. Probably not, anyway. Definitely not Geto. Maybe Toji, but even then Gojo hadn’t really been thinking straight at the time. And yes, Gojo knew that there was no fair fight in the world of Jujutsu sorcery and that every fight could be your last blah blah blah. Gojo could practically hear Yaga yelling at him. Which, Masamichi was yelling at him, but about something different this time. 

…but Gojo hadn’t expected Suguru to confess his love, and especially not in front of everyone. Gojo remembered the moment perfectly, Geto’s purple eyes screwed shut as he yelled out “I LOVE YOU!” in the main courtyard of Jujutsu High. They had been talking about their philosophical differences, something they did often when they were alone. Gojo had just brought up that he didn’t need their limits any longer, that they were beyond what everyone else could ever imagine. 

Gojo had been in a dream-like state where everything felt possible and beyond sublime. Everything had felt like watching a movie – a perfect life untainted by the reality of living. Gojo had been dreaming about his future with Geto when Suguru had blurted out those three words. In that same moment, Nanami had used his ratio technique and Toji executed the strike, knocking Gojo out with enough force to break the gates to Jujutsu High. It was enough to break him from his trance, his dream state lost once more.

It was impressive, but ultimately he really wanted to talk to Suguru in private and see if he meant it or if it was just the heat of the moment. Maybe he could get Suguru to say it again, Gojo thought, tilting his head to the side. He could have Geto at his mercy, pinning him down to kiss him over and over. Gojo would tease him until Suguru cracked, finally getting to the core of his reserved boyfriend. Then he’d make Sugu say it again and again until Gojo finally believed that he meant it, that someone in the world loved him for more than his ability to fight…

“ – GOJO! PAY ATTENTION!” Yaga roared, knocking Gojo on the head.

“Owww,” Gojo complained, holding the side of his head with a pout.

“Have you been listening at all?” Masamichi yelled while circling back to the seat behind his desk.

“No,” Gojo said with an impish smile. He didn’t have to annoy Yaga, but he sure did enjoy it.

“You caused such a massive problem and you’re not even listening! Yu and Kento, you’re dismissed. You’re to stay in your dorms for the time being. Geto, go back to your rooms as well. You’re not off the hook either, but I’ll deal with you later,” Masamichi barked out, dismissing the students with a wave of his hand. The two first years left the room after looking at one another, while Suguru lingered. He put his hand on Gojo’s shoulder and gave him a small squeeze before sauntering out of the room, his long robes and hair flowing gracefully behind him. Gojo loved to see Geto coming, but he also loved watching him leave…maybe he could pull Suguru’s hair now that it was down. Geto didn’t usually keep it down but…

“PAY ATTENTION!” Yaga exclaimed, pounding his fist on his desk. Gojo pouted, this was cutting into precious free time. He’d pay attention and get this meeting over with – he wanted to make his way back to Geto as soon as possible. Yaga rubbed his forehead and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Gojo frowned – this was not how a scolding from Yaga usually went. Masamichi was all bellowing smoke, not tired resignation. Maybe Gojo had finally broken him.

“Gojo, I don’t know if I can help you with this one,” Yaga said, tugging on his goatee in thought. “You really did a lot this time.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Gojo said, putting his hands behind his head. “Things worked out fine.”

“Gojo. You kidnapped the wife of Zen’in Naoya, brought the Sorcerer Assassin into the school, fought him to the death, and then had to be taken down by a team of sorcerers so you didn’t kill everyone,” Masamichi said, putting his sunglasses on his head to rub his eyes.

“When you put it that way it doesn't sound great. Usagi’s fine and I didn’t actually kill anyone so no harm, no foul,” Gojo said with a smile, crossing his legs. He wasn’t worried – what were the higher ups going to do? He and Geto were the strongest sorcerers, and it wasn’t like the assassin worked for them. Which reminded him…

“You don’t get the money, by the way,” Gojo tossed at Toji. 

“The fuck you mean I don’t get the money? I killed you,” Toji gritted out, crossing his arms. The more Gojo interacted with Toji, the more he liked him. Which, considering Gojo had wanted to kill him initially, was saying something. There was something about him that made Gojo want to bait Toji. Maybe it was the fact that Toji was the only person to come close to killing him, or maybe it was because he could actually learn something from the old man. Either way, Gojo’s opinion on Toji had shifted. 

“I’m not dead, am I?” Gojo taunted with a broad smile.

“You were the first time I left you,” Toji grumbled. 

“The elders are going to want to see Toji too –” Yaga interrupted. Toji rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“I’m not goin’, I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, staring daggers at Yaga. Gojo grinned again, Toji was a good person to know. Another powerful fighter who didn’t bow to the elder’s whims was another potential ally.

“Fighting Gojo within the walls of Jujutsu High –”

“So what?! He started it!” Toji exclaimed, throwing an arm out wide to point at Gojo.

“You’re over 30 and using the ‘he started it defense’?” Gojo asked with a laugh.

“You did start this, you punk. You made me fight to rescue my wo– Usagi,” Toji replied. “Besides, you’re not dead so what’s the problem?”

“Oh, you wanted to fight. And that’s what I said! I’m not dead so you don’t get the money!” Gojo said, crossing his legs.

“I definitely did it once, so give me half the money. S’what would be fair,” Toji complained.

“No way, you didn’t completely slice off my head –”

“And for the murder of several other sorcerers –”

“You don’t have any proof of who killed those sorcerers. No one does. Coulda been anyone. Maybe you did it, Masamichi,” Toji said with a smirk. Gojo laughed as Yaga took a deep breath before turning to face Gojo again. 

“The elders are going to order Toji’s execution –”

“Nah,” Toji said, picking his teeth. They would get along great, Gojo just knew it. There was a squeak from the corner of the room, behind Toji. Gojo didn’t need to turn his head to figure out who it was. You were so quiet Gojo had forgotten about you. Actually, he’d forgotten about you completely until now. You weren’t interesting or powerful, so Gojo had mentally filed you away in the same category as plants and cute animals. 

“And the Zen’in have been demanding we return Usagi,” Masamichi continued. You paled and looked at Toji, scuttling closer as if seeking protection from him. Toji stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowing. 

“No. She’s not going back,” Toji said, giving Masamichi a hard glare. Gojo’s gaze flicked between you and Toji. Oh? Sending you back to the Zen’in set him off but the possibility of being executed didn’t? So Gojo hadn’t been wrong before, not exactly. Toji was interested in Zen’in Naoya’s cute little wife…

“Unfortunately we have to acquiesce to their demands, they are partially in control of the school –”

“I’m not sending her back to the Zen’in. It’s not happening –”

“It would make everything much easier if we sent her back peacefully rather than them coming here–”

“Naoya beats the shit out of her. Nearly killed her. That’s why we’re in the city. I brought her to get healed by Shoko after he strangled her,” Toji gritted out. “So no. She can’t go back to the Zen’in. We’re never going back. I’m not raising my kid in an environment like that and I’m sure as fuck not letting Naoya choke her to death.” Masamichi was silent for once, his face settling into a look of disgust. 

Meanwhile, you had flushed at Toji’s words, your hands shaking. A small pang of guilt pricked at Gojo – he hadn’t meant to do anything that terrible to you. And he certainly hadn’t known your background information. It didn’t surprise him, the clans were complete shit, his own included. So if you couldn’t go back home then…

“You seem broke,” Gojo interrupted. “Where are you gonna go?”

“I’m a little down on my luck, sure. But I’ll figure it out –”

“You kill sorcerers for money. You gotta be broke to be an assassin,” Gojo speculated.

“Again, you can’t prove that. And maybe being an assassin is fun. I wouldn’t know personally, but seems like it could be,” Toji shot back, his grin returning to his face for a moment.

“Just shut up and stay here until I can figure this mess out,” Masamichi said with a long, tired sigh. He looked at Gojo over his sunglasses, his eyes more tired than Gojo remembered. 

“Really, Gojo. Stay here. Don’t make this worse for me than it already is,” he said with a groan before getting out of his chair.

Damn it. His talk with Geto would have to wait. 

And Gojo hated waiting.

No, I don't really think they could take down Gojo together but I thought it was cute. Also yeah black rope here bc it's fun. Miguel’s not dead tho, Toji bumped off one of their enemies or st.

After what Shamrock had revealed the previous day, you had tried to take the necklace off. In truth, the thought to take it off your neck had never crossed your mind previously. The necklace felt like a part of you, like a piece of your puzzle. But you didn’t want to project any kind of information for him to glean, not even if you were distressed or curious. Besides, now that you knew it came from him, you felt like it was tainted. You hadn’t wanted it off before, but now that you couldn’t take it off, that was all you wanted to do. So you had sat in front of the mirror in your room and tried to unclasp it.

You couldn’t.

It was infuriating because you could see the clasp wasn’t broken. It looked like it worked perfectly fine, as gleaming in the mirror as it always was. And yet you couldn’t get it to open. The necklace had stayed locked on your neck no matter how long you tried or which tools you tried to jam in it. You tried for hours and had even asked Ginny for help, but nothing worked. In your desperation you nearly asked Shanks before deciding against it at the last moment. Shanks was the one who had brought trouble to you, so you weren’t going to ask him for anything. It was yet another thing you’d have to ask Shamrock about, you thought as you dropped the necklace back down onto your chest, a scowl on your face. 

You stomped off to the library, already pissed off with Shamrock despite promising yourself to remain aloof and cool. Once outside the building, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. At the beginning of your stay at Kuraigana, you had a tremendous amount of control over yourself and your outward displays of emotions. You had let that control slip over the ensuing months and years, but surely you could summon it once more. Clearing your mind, you exhaled slowly and placed your fingertips on your chest. 

You could do this.

You opened the large, wooden doors to the library. You looked around for your target and spotted him quickly. Shamrock was lounging on a couch, his long legs crossed at the ankle. The late afternoon sun was coming in through the glass windows, highlighting the fiery red of his gorgeous hair as well as his cut cheekbones. His shirt was open nearly down to his bellybutton, revealing a chiseled chest and a smattering of red chest hair. Shamrock looked like he had been outside in the sun and the light tan he’d acquired agreed with him. Looking closer, Shamrock was reading your copy of your favorite book and looking unbelievably sexy while he did it. Shamrock looked up at you with the sound of the door creaking and smirked. 

You could not do this. 

Every fiber of your being had you wanting to either bolt out the door, punch him in his face, or sit next to him on the couch with your head in his lap, but you weren’t going to do any of those things. Unclenching your now balled fists, you walked over to a chair beside the couch and sat down. You tried to regain the peace of mind from minutes before but it was gone as soon as you saw the light dusting of freckles along the bridge of his nose and sprinkled across his chest.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that your body wanted his. It definitely wasn’t love, it wasn’t even like – you were woman enough to admit Shamrock was incredibly attractive. And it wasn’t like you’d been with anyone in the years alone on Kuraigana. Definitely something to think about after your time with Shamrock was over.

“Good afternoon, Clover. It’s lovely to see you again,” Shamrock said, laying the book on his lap to shut it gently with his remaining hand. Even his stupid voice was sexy, you thought as you fought the urge to shiver. No, you thought as you straightened your spine. You were a warrior of the Revolutionary Army and you would not be controlled by any man, no matter how sexy he was.

“Hello, Shamrock,” you replied, specifically not returning the compliment. It probably wouldn’t serve you to be petty when you wanted information from him. But you really didn’t have it in you to simper for him while finding out what he had done to you as a slave.

“How are you faring today?” he asked mildly, setting the book to his side in favor of the wine glass on the side table. There was a half filled bottle of red wine on the table next to him, with another bottle and empty glass behind it. A lush like his brother, you thought with a small frown. Even so, you were thinking about asking for the other glass. This was going to be painful.

“Stop,” you said, putting up your hand. “We’re not doing this,” you stated. Shamrock hummed and took a sip from his wine glass.

“Doing what exactly?” Shamrock asked, arching a well manicured brow. You resisted the rising urge to punch him. It seemed he and Shanks brought this feeling out in you in equal measures. 

“I’m not chatting with you like this is a normal situation. I’m here because you forced Dragon’s hand and to get information about my past,” you stated, trying not to stare into his deep brown eyes.

“I understand,” Shamrock said simply before setting his glass of wine back down. “You may ask the first question.” You pursed your lips in anticipation of the main question that had been on your mind before you had another thought come to light.

“Wait, how do I know you won’t lie to me? You don’t really have any reason to tell the truth,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes. 

“Is that your first question?” Shamrock asked in reply, the smirk on his lips growing wider. If there was any doubt he was related to Shanks, it had been removed from your mind. Definitely a familial failing rather than something you had to atone for.

“Stop being annoying. No, I am merely wondering aloud how I can be certain that what you tell me is the truth,” you said with a roll of your eyes. 

“I am not annoying, perhaps you are thinking of my brother. And I don’t lie as a general rule. I seldom have the need to,” Shamrock said with a shrug. He then looked you in the eyes, his gaze intense in its heat, and answered without breaking eye contact. “And I’ve never lied to you. Not once in the time we’ve known each other.” You swallowed thickly, surprised by the sincerity ringing through his voice. Still, you wouldn’t allow yourself to be cowed by Shamrock, no matter what the situation was. 

“That doesn’t really mean much since I don’t remember any of it. I suppose we will have to agree that we will tell only the truth to each other,” you said, wishing you had some of the wine at his disposal.

“I give you my word,” Shamrock replied, crossing his legs as he sat up on the couch.

“The word of a Celestial Dragon isn’t worth much,” you said, half to yourself.

“Former Celestial Dragon,” Shamrock corrected, flicking his hair over his shoulder. You sighed – it was going to be a long hour if he was going to be like this the whole time. Even so, you took a deep breath and readied yourself for the question that was at the top of your mind.

“My first question is – did you own me as a slave on Marie Geosie?” you asked, unconsciously leaning forward. You felt you knew the answer already but you wanted to have complete certainty. There would be plenty of time to ask smaller questions, but you wanted to cut to the heart of the matter immediately. It felt like the air was sucked out of the room as you focused on Shamrock, waiting intently for an answer.

“Yes,”  was Shamrock’s simple reply. You wanted him to elaborate but he didn’t, instead gazing out the window for a moment. It took you a moment to take in what that really meant for you, especially in relation to the man next to you. Your blood boiled at his answer, like your entire existence could be summarized in one word. 

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” you hissed angrily, your fingers curling into the material of the loose pants you wore. How dare he keep his cool while acknowledging that he had owned you?

“It isn’t your turn for a question. I will answer that, if you wish, after you answer mine,” he replied, his eyes devoid of emotion. His face was eerily blank, like he’d put a mask over his features. You sat back in your chair, nervous about the abrupt change. The thought that Shamrock was one of the strongest people in the world suddenly entered your mind, but you pushed it to the back. 

“OK.” You would have to play his game if you wanted more information. So you steeled yourself, preparing for whatever Shamrock was going to ask. Just as quickly as the mask had come on, it slipped away once more.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning back and laying his arm across the back of the couch. You blinked rapidly, completely caught off guard. What kind of question was that? Of all the things you had been anticipating from Shamrock, that wasn’t even remotely within the realm of possibility of what you had considered.

“Excuse me?” you replied, leaning forward again.

“You keep answering my queries with more questions. You will be in my debt shortly if I keep answering them,” Shamrock replied easily, drumming his fingers on the couch. Holy fuck you were going to kill this guy. You took a moment before answering, unsure what kind of advantage Shamrock could glean from this kind of information.

“I was surprised, that is all. And a new rule – rhetorical questions don’t count as a turn,” you suggested. Shamrock inclined his head in agreement.

“And the answer to my question is?” Shamrock prompted. 

“My favorite color is green,” you answered quickly, eager to get back to your turn. Clearly, you would have to be exact in your questions otherwise you wouldn’t get the answers you wanted out of him. That was alright, you were familiar with this kind of wordplay from your time spent with Mihawk.

“Are you ashamed to have owned me?” you asked again, this time softer. You weren’t speaking from anger this time, rather a mixture of sorrow and confusion. Did Shamrock regret anything about his past? About yours? Shamrock cleared his throat before speaking again.

“No. I am not ashamed. You were bought for me as a personal attendant when we were both children. I had no say in the matter. In fact, I didn’t want you and refused you at first,” Shamrock said, picking at the pilling on the couch. You blinked a few times with Shamrock’s answer. You hadn’t really thought about the possibility that he hadn’t wanted you as a slave, or that you had both been children. It made sense, since you appeared to be approximately the same age, but it wasn’t something you had considered before. There were so many more questions that sprang to mind but it was now Shamrock’s turn. 

“What shade of green is your favorite?” Shamrock asked, his gaze raking over you. You quirked an eyebrow at him, though you were grateful for the break in intensity from your own questions. At least his questions were easy to answer. You noticed your fingers had drifted back to your necklace, as they often did. Dropping your hand, you pressed your lips together before answering.

“Deep, emerald green.” For some reason, your answer had Shamrock’s eyes softening for just a moment. This wasn’t his smirk, this almost seemed like…affection. Shamrock took hold of his glass once more and sipped the red wine. 

“Ugh, I need some wine,” you said longingly. “And that’s not a question,” you said, pointing your finger in the air.  

“Naturally. I am aware of the difference between a question and a statement. I brought another glass for that very reason,” Shamrock offered. You glanced at the wine, it looked like a pinot noir. Red wine really wasn’t your favorite but you’d drink it in case of an emergency. And dealing with Shamrock made it an emergency.

At first you thought he might struggle to open the wine since he only had one hand and thought about offering your help. However, it quickly became apparent that Shamrock had already opened both bottles. A lovely looking white wine appeared in the second glass as he poured, though your nose wrinkled slightly. Everyone knew red wines should be room temperature but most white wines should be served chilled. Unless they were –

“It is chardonnay, the temperature in this room is perfect to open it up,” Shamrock said to your unasked (and out of turn) question. “I know you don't favor red wines.” He stood up and passed it to you, taking care to ensure that your fingers didn’t touch.

“You don’t know me at all. You don’t know anything about me,” you said, looking into the wine glass. 

“I did, once upon a time. And I’d like to again,” Shamrock said quietly, sitting back down on the sofa. You nearly groaned in frustration. It felt like a conversation that you were being left out of and you were the only other person in it. 

“Which is why my next question is – what is your favorite book?” Shamrock asked. He adopted his normal bored pose but his stiff pose belied his interest. Why did he care so much about such irrelevant things?

“The one next to you, actually. That’s my copy, I brought it with me from Kuraigana,” you said, taking a sip of the wine. Just like he had said, the wine was perfect in the slightly cool room. Shamrock’s fingers traced the cover of the book as he hummed, his gaze directed at the embossed cover. 

The book had been one of the few possessions you’d brought with you, along with your bow and arrow, your cloak, and a few clothes. You held a sentimental attachment to the book, feeling pity for the beast and enjoying the growth of the maiden he loved. You’d spent countless hours reading it time and again, especially the romantic bits. But real life wasn’t a fairy tale and you were no maiden locked in a castle. You half expected more questions on the matter, but he seemed to be content with that one answer. Your answer about your favorite color brought another matter to mind.

“My turn. Why can’t I take this necklace off?” you asked, tugging on your chain. Shamrock slowly brought his eyes to where you were drawing attention, making goosebumps rise on your skin. He wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, you’d brought the necklace up yourself. And still it felt somehow intimate for Shamrock to be looking at your clavicles like that.

“I had it sealed shut by the owner of the lock lock fruit. Only I can open it,” he explained, his eyes still on your decolletage.

“Why would you do that?” you asked, your fingers gripping the gem tightly. Now that you knew your former slave master had put it around your neck, you wanted it off more than ever. It was taking all your self control not to claw at your neck. It felt like the metal was burning your skin, almost like another brand. You scowled as you tugged on the necklace. What had you been thinking sitting here with him? Drinking with him? Talking with him? With your former owner?

“It’s not your turn,” Shamrock reminded you, looking into your eyes. You flinched back, something you hadn’t done since your first week living with Mihawk. Shamrock leaned forward, his sharp eyes looking over you in concern. But you didn’t want him looking at you or talking to you or doing anything with you right now. You needed that goddamn necklace off.

“Take it off,” you demanded, feeling your chest start to heat. It felt like a noose around your neck rather than the balm it had always been. Shamrock was still looking at you with his brow furrowed, like you were a puzzle he had yet to master. Your face was hot as he stared at you, collected and elegant as always. How could he just sit there when he’d…when you’d….when…

“TAKE IT OFF!” you yelled, your nails digging into the tender skin of your neck. Your breath was coming in short pants, and your vision was narrowing. Your skin felt too hot and too tight, like there was something that needed to burst out of you. Sweat was running down your back as buzzing grew in your head. It seemed like you blinked and Shamrock was kneeling in front of you. His fingers were gripping the arm of the chair so tightly it creaked under the strain. His eyes bored into your face, never ceasing to look at you.

“Clover. I will take it off. Take a deep breath,” he commanded, his presence overpowering your own. And yet, it felt like the fist around your throat loosened and you were able to take a shaky, shallow breath. 

“Again,” he ordered, not moving from his position at your feet. You had the gut feeling that if Shamrock was allowed to touch you, you would be wrapped in his arms, flush against his chest. Still, you took a halting, slow breath to calm yourself down, followed by three more. As your lungs filled fully with air, you realized your hands were shaking. So much for a valiant warrior of the Revolutionary Army, you thought wryly. One necklace and you were done for.

“Did…did you ever do anything bad?” you whispered, unable to look him in the eyes. You weren’t able to verify anything that he said; you had no memory of anything that happened in the past. But you needed some kind of cornerstone, something that would give you shelter in this confusion. Shamrock caught your gaze, his eyes softening as he spoke.

“I will not lie to you, Clover. I have done many horrible things. I am not a good man. But I tried to be the best I could be for you. I tried to protect you from harm. I don’t know if I’ve always made the right choices, but I’ve…I’ve tried,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion at the end. A few moments of silence passed between you as you caught your breath. You felt like crying – this was all too much to bear in one short hour. Instead, you bit your lips and closed your eyes, trying to keep from shattering. Shamrock stood up from in front of you and walked around you to the back of the chair you were sitting in. 

“In order to remove the necklace, I will have to touch you. Do I have your consent?” he asked formally behind you. The light scent of lily hit your nose, like a memory so close to the surface you could practically taste it. You kept facing forward as you nodded, you couldn’t bear to look at him right now after that tender confession.

“I need to hear you say it. I will not have any misunderstandings with Dragon,” Shamrock continued from behind you. You licked your lips and spoke quietly. Freaking out like that had robbed you of some of your anger and energy and you didn’t have much more in you. Looking at the clock on the wall, you were almost out of time anyway. 

“You may touch me to remove the necklace,” you agreed. 

“Thank you. Unfortunately with my single hand, it is challenging to open it from this angle. Would you mind standing up?” he asked after a moment of silence. Thinking it through, you supposed having only one hand would make it difficult. You nodded again and complied with his request, coming around the chair to where he was. You stood in front of Shamrock and turned around so that he could unlock your necklace.

The first thing you felt were the tips of Shamrock’s warm fingers grazing your neck as he moved your hair out of the way. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as he lightly touched you, picking the chain off your neck. Your hands flew up to move your hair out of the way for him, holding it away so he could more easily work. Shamrock’s body heat was warm against your back, his presence taking up all of your attention. It didn’t help that he towered over you, making you feel small in comparison. 

Shamrock’s fingers touched the skin on the back of your neck where the clasp was and he leaned down closer to you. You could feel his even breath ghosting along your skin, making goosebumps appear in its wake. He grasped the clasp with his fingers, fiddling with it. That subtle lily scent wafted towards you again as his deep red hair appeared in your periphery. 

As he worked, your mind kept wandering to the fact that if you took one half step back, you’d be flush against his muscled chest. And yes, Shamrock was detestable. But between the gentle way he was touching your skin, his confession of trying to be good for you, and the way he’d helped you calm down, you were like putty in his hands. If he leaned down just a few inches, he could kiss your neck. And you weren’t completely sure that you’d stop him.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you were surprised when Shamrock took a few steps back. Your neck felt lighter, like it was missing something. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you almost wanted the necklace back on. It felt like a piece of you was missing, a weight that kept you grounded during the turmoil of life. You rubbed the back of your neck, half expecting to feel a groove where the necklace had always lain. But of course, there was nothing.

Shamrock moved to stand in front of you with an inscrutable look. You opened your hand and he pooled the golden necklace within it without touching your palm. The chain was open at last, long and lean like a snake that would bite you.

“So you are aware, the charm is not broken. It still will not unlock for you, only myself. And to answer your question, I put it on you in place of a slave collar,” he said, his gaze distant. Without saying anything else, Shamrock turned and walked to the large wooden doors. You stared at his back as he walked, completely silent. There was nothing to say. 

Your fist closed so tightly around the beautiful necklace that your knuckles turned white. As Shamrock’s hand was on the door, he hesitated for a moment. He glanced back at you over his shoulder, his brown eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t place.

“Until tomorrow, Clover.”

A/N: it was an angsty one but we knew there would be bumps in the road.

“It’s not funny! I look like an idiot!” you snapped back. “Really, would it be so hard for you to let me walk with my dignity intact?” Sabo gestured to the ground, which was covered in shrapnel, debris, and shattered glass.

“You’re not wearing shoes. As much as I respect your autonomy I’d rather not have you slicing them to ribbons,” Sabo pointed out. You huffed a little – he was right, but you weren’t going to admit it. In all the hubbub of the RA attack, you hadn’t remembered to put on your shoes. You hated wearing those stupid heels and often spent your time barefoot when you could.

“Besides, I doubt you care. And no one you know is here to see it anyway, you let everyone else escape. Oh! I have an idea! I’ll carry you like this instead,” Sabo said with a smile. Before you knew it he maneuvered you so he was carrying you bridal style, clutched tightly to his chest.

“This is worse!” you griped. Though, truth be told, it was a more comfortable position for you. If he insisted on carrying you, it might as well be this way. “Where are you taking me?” you asked, your bare feet dangling. 

“To our ship. Like I said, you’re coming with me. I’m not losing you again,” he said, making his way down to the docks. 

“Obviously. You know that’s not what I meant,” you scoffed as Sabo kept walking. Your estate wasn’t on a large island, so you could already see the RA flagship bobbing in the high tide. You licked your lips nervously – you hoped your servants could still get away. The man carrying you did seem to be Sabo, but you didn’t completely believe everything he told you about the Revolutionary Army. Not that you believed everything the nobles said either, but you didn’t want your servants to bear the brunt of their wrath if you were wrong about the Revolutionary Army.

As Sabo quickly made his way down towards the dock, you didn’t see the ship that your servants had been instructed to board. Perhaps they were still in the cove, waiting for the RA to leave. Either way, you didn’t want them to think they had to remain on the island and wait for your shitty husband to return. You wanted better for them – better than working for your shitty husband on some forgotten island in the middle of nowhere. 

“Sabo, can you do something for me?” you asked, looking him in the face. Your eyes unintentionally focused on the scar on the left side of his face. Your fingers were half raised as if to touch it, but you curled them back into your palm. It wouldn’t do to touch a strange man, no matter if you were childhood friends or not.

“Mmh. Anything for my wife,” he said, his eyes boring into yours. You rolled your eyes – Sabo clearly didn’t have the same concerns you did. 

“Sabo, I’m serious. I know you’re taking me somewhere, but I need you to promise me something,” you said, gripping his shoulder with one hand. Sabo’s eyes roved over your face before he gave you a curt nod.

“I need you to leave a message for the servants. Tell them they are free to leave the island, to stay if they wish, or to join the Revolutionary Army, whatever they want to do. They are all released from their contracts and can take what they wish from the mansion. I don’t want them staying out of fear for what will happen to them either with you or with…” you trailed off, not wanting the words to pass your lips. The less you thought about your lawfully wedded husband, the better.

“The current owner of the estate,” Sabo finished for you. His arms gripped you a little tighter but he didn’t falter in his footsteps. You nodded, stroking and tugging on your earlobe with your fingers. 

“Alright, I can do that. I can tell you don’t believe me about what the RA does –”

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t believe you, but I also thought you were dead for the past decade until about fifteen minutes ago. Things can change quickly, you know?” you interrupted. Even though you didn’t really know Sabo anymore, your heart felt lighter with the hope that he’d be able to save your servants from being stuck on the island. 

“They’re in the cove, right? The hidden one on the far side of the island? I assume that’s where the tunnels under the estate go. I’ll have someone send a message over,” Sabo said, adjusting you a little higher on his arms. 

“How did you know?” you asked, your mouth open in shock. Sabo laughed as he approached the dock.

“This isn’t our first island takeover. We do our due diligence before we come. Besides, who do you think tipped us off that the brutal owner wasn’t here? A few of your servants aren’t as loyal to your ex husband as you think,” he stated, walking down the wooden dock. You were going to remark that he wasn’t your ex when Sabo took a few steps up the gangplank to the RA’s giant ship.

“EEE! BE CAREFUL SABO!” you yelped, twining your arms around his neck. You hadn’t been so near to the water in years, always afraid you were going to drown.

“Whoa, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Sabo asked, gripping you tightly. His head swiveled left and right, but there was nothing to see.

“No, no, not that. I can’t swim. I was just scared you’re gonna drop me,” you explained, holding yourself tightly to his chest. Your face was nestled in the crook of his neck and a long forgotten scent hit your nose. Carnations and cedarwood mixed together and created a scent that had you taking a discreet sniff of his shirt. Sabo took a few steps back onto the dock and pulled you away from his body to look at your face.

“Yes you can, what are you talking about? I don’t remember much but I remember you beating me in a swimming race,” Sabo said, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You shook your head, which made Sabo drop his hand.

“I beat you in every swimming race, you were super slow. But I can’t swim, not anymore. I ate a devil fruit a few years ago,” you said glumly. 

“Oh! How wonderful! What does it do?” Sabo asked, his excitement growing. 

“Nothing good or helpful. It’s a stupid one. I regret eating it,” you said, looking off to the side. You’d found it in the small forest on the estate during one of your daily walks. You had been so excited, thinking it would maybe help you escape from your husband and get out of the terrible life you lived, but it hadn’t done much of anything. You hadn’t even told anyone until now, afraid of what other nobles would say to your husband if anyone found out. Rare devil fruits were excellent to have, but one like yours would bring shame to your husband.

“Come on, then. You can tell me,” Sabo prodded, his hand rubbing up and down the outside of your thigh. You should have told him to stop but it felt too good at the moment. No one had touched you kindly in years; you were completely touch starved. As it was, you wanted to purr like a spoiled cat as he patted you. Why had you wanted him to set you down again?

“You’re gonna laugh,” you pouted as Sabo took a few steps towards the gangplank once more. Your eyes flicked down to the waves lapping at the dock. Being so close to water made you nervous, even if the chance of drowning was so slim.

“Never,” he said, one foot on the plank. You gave him a small frown and narrowed your eyes. Sabo smiled back at you, filling your mind with visions of him as a child doing the same. Your frown broke as you rubbed the back of your neck.

“It was a zoan fruit. I turn into a… well, a giant uh, snail –”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA–”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T LAUGH!” you yelled, punching his shoulder lightly with your fist.

“It’s so funny though! A giant snail! You could have had any power in the world and you got stuck with being a gastropod!” Sabo said, still laughing. Truthfully, you didn’t mind if Sabo was laughing with you. It felt freeing to finally be able to tell someone about your devil fruit, even if it was completely useless. It was one less secret you had to keep close to your heart.

“I gotta tell Koala, that’s too good,” Sabo said with a happy sigh, starting back up the gangplank. Your arms gripped him tightly, your fingers digging into his skin. In turn, Sabo held you tighter, holding you higher so your ear was by his mouth.

“ ‘M not gonna drop ya. You’re safe right here in my arms. Nothing bad is going to happen to you,” Sabo said softly to you, breaking the joviality of before. You shivered as his sweet words skittered down your spine, his breath tickling your skin. You scrunched your eyes shut as he ascended to the ship, afraid to look down at the water. It was foolish, but you hadn’t really been down to the waterfront since you’d eaten your fruit. 

“We’re on the ship. See? Nothing happened, like I promised you,” Sabo said, his hands loosening their grip on your legs. You cracked open an eye and saw that Sabo had brought you to the main deck of the RA flagship.

“Oi! Who’s that? I thought we weren’t taking anyone,” a female voice said from across the deck as Sabo set you on your feet once more. 

“Koala, come here! There’s someone I want you to meet!” Sabo said excitedly, waving to a short, brunette woman with a puffy hat. She walked over quickly, her eyes narrowed.

“You didn’t kidnap her, did you?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Yes,” you replied.

“No,” Sabo said simultaneously. Sabo slung his arm around your shoulders and pulled you a step closer to his side. You looked up at his face – Sabo was taller than you realized. You had towered over him for a few years as kids, but things had clearly changed.

“Koala, this is my wife, Grace,” Sabo said, gesturing to you.

“What do you mean wife –”

“My name isn’t Grace!” you erupted, pushing his arm off your shoulders to face him. “That’s a nickname you gave me because I fell off the log bridge into the river one time!” you said, poking his chest with your index finger.

“Again, what do you mean wife? What log bridge and river? Sabo, you’re married?” Koala reiterated, scratching her forehead.

“No, we’re not married,” you huffed as Sabo replaced his arm over your shoulders. This had to be the same Sabo you remembered – no one ever pushed your buttons like Sabo was able to.

“We are,” Sabo rebutted, now playing with the ends of your hair. You swatted his hand away but he remained undeterred, his fingers instead shifting to slowly drawing circles on your upper arm.

“It’s nice to meet you, uh, Grace. I’m Koala, one of Sabo’s childhood friends and an officer in the Revolutionary Army,” the brunette explained, offering her hand. You shook it and gave her a smile back. You weren’t going to be rude just because Sabo was annoying you. You were about to answer her when Sabo interrupted you.

“Oh, Grace was also one of my childhood friends. From before the accident. That’s when we got married,” Sabo explained, as if that was a totally logical statement. You gave him a dirty look and pursed your lips in annoyance.

“You remember your childhood? That’s incredible, Sabo! What can you remember –” Koala was speaking but you interrupted her just as Sabo had you. Of course Sabo remembered his childhood. He probably remembered just as much as you did – he’d been there along with Ace and Luffy. You’d ask him about them soon, you were so curious about what happened to them. There hadn’t been any news from the outside world at your home for so long, but surely Ace and Luffy had made their ways as pirates. But first you needed to nip this marriage thing in the bud before Sabo got any other grand ideas about your place in his life.

“Sabo, in case you don’t remember, I’m legally married to someone else. You know, the person you’re currently robbing and ransacking? We kissed once as kids, that doesn’t make us truly married,” you said, giving him a stink eye. Sabo stared back at you, unwavering in his intensity.

“Yes it does. The government is bullshit so what they say doesn’t matter. You’re my wife, Grace. And that’s all there is to it.”

Sabo’s POV

Sabo couldn’t believe it. 

He remembered you.

He remembered only you.

Sabo remembered spending time with you in the forests of Goa, hunting and fighting and  swimming and playing. It was like you had burst into his memories, bringing color where there had only been darkness. There were other shadowy figures on the periphery but he couldn’t place anything about them yet. You said something about others in his past, and he would take the time to dig into that later. For now there was no reason to divulge that his entire childhood was a void in his mind, everything between his parents and Dragon finding him a complete blank.

Except for you.

Sabo didn’t know how it was possible that he had recovered some of his memories of his childhood after so many years without. He also didn’t know how only his solo memories of you had returned, but he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clearly, seeing you was the key to it all and he wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers again. Once he saw you brandishing a metal pipe at him in your stuffy manor, it triggered a flood of memories all at once. He’d nearly dropped to the ground with the overwhelming amount of information that came flooding back but held himself together. Sabo would fall apart later when there wasn’t anything at stake, but for now he’d pretend like nothing was amiss.

“Yes it does. The government is bullshit so what they say doesn’t matter. You’re my wife, Grace. And that’s all there is to it,” Sabo said while looking at you intently. He was framing it somewhat lightheartedly, but he wasn’t joking. Sabo now considered you his wife, as much as if you had been married the previous day in court. Yes, he knew you were legally married to another, but that asshole forfeited his rights to you the moment that Sabo laid eyes on you again. He’d figure out what to do about your soon to be ex-husband in the future. 

He’d known you were still the same person from the moment you saved your servants. Sabo had destroyed many mansions and estates of World Nobles, and none of them had ever given a single thought to their slaves or servants. Not only that, but he’d purposely destroyed that tacky, expensive vase to gauge your reaction. You didn’t even bat an eye, instead keeping your gaze trained on him. They could give you the appearance of a noble lady – and what an appearance that was – but underneath you were the girl he remembered, the one that he truly loved.

And he did love you, Sabo realized as he watched you scowl at him. As a child, Sabo had been completely enamoured with you. It had been the only secret he’d kept close to his heart, afraid that someone (who?) would make fun of him for liking a girl. But Sabo had loved you with all of his boyhood heart. You were strong and courageous and smart and funny and brave, all qualities that he himself wished to have. And that little girl had grown up to be an especially lovely woman, Sabo thought as he looked you up and down. 

“I have a question for you,” Sabo said, dragging his gloved finger across the exposed flesh of your back and shoulders. He didn’t like anything about the noble class, but he would thank whoever it was that made this dress for you. It was rather modest, with a mid calf skirt and a sweetheart neckline, but that only made Sabo’s imagination spark.

“What now? Are you gonna make fun of my fruit again?” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh yeah! Koala, listen to this. Grace–” 

“NOT MY NAME –”

“ – Ate a zoan devil fruit and she turns into a giant snail!” Sabo said, finishing with a bright smile. Koala smiled, though she had the decency not to laugh.

“Oh! Like a giant den den?” Koala asked, tipping her head to the side.

“What’s that?” you asked, scrunching your nose. Sabo blinked – surely everyone knew about den den mushi by now. Though, thinking back, he hadn’t seen any methods of communication at the estate. Maybe your ex-husband took them with him when he traveled. You certainly wouldn’t be the first stranded noble wife he had encountered. 

“You know, those telepathic snails we use for communication?” Sabo offered. Your face cleared of all expression, like you were playing a role of a noble wife. Sabo’s hackles rose – this blankness was something new in you. You were always so expressive when they were kids, what had happened to make you be able to act like this?

“Of course, silly me. I misheard you,” you lied easily. If Sabo hadn’t been a trained spy, he might have missed your tells. You must have become accustomed to lying during the time you and he had been apart, and Sabo wanted to know why. Oh well, one more mystery he’d uncover later when the two of you were alone.

“Hmm…once you show me your Zoan form, we can see if that’s the case,” Sabo offered. Your mouth twisted a little.

“Maybe. I don’t really like being in my Zoan form,” you hedged, crossing your arms and tugging at your earlobe.

“Oh? Why not?” Sabo asked, genuinely curious. “from what I’ve heard, Zoans love being in their counterpart form – or even a hybrid state. Is it because you’re so slimy? Or because you leave a snail trail?” Sabo asked, trying to rile you up. He didn’t know why he said it, it felt like he couldn’t stop himself around you. Your face heated up with his words but you gave no indication that you understood the double entendre. 

“NO. It’s not that. I don’t like it because it’s too loud,” you said, tossing your head. Sabo looked at Koala – she was on to something. She nodded in silent understanding that he wanted her to continue asking you questions. After so many missions together, they understood one another exceedingly well even without verbal communication. 

“What do you mean loud? Like you can hear too much? Or from greater distances?” Koala prompted, taking a few steps closer to you.

“Not exactly. It’s like if you had thousands of people in a room and everyone was talking all at once. Kinda like that. It’s overwhelming,” you said, taking a step backwards and bumping into Sabo’s chest. Were you…retreating? From Koala? Sabo didn’t mind that you were close to him, but he was rather surprised. He couldn’t remember you backing off….well, ever. Not that he remembered much, but it was more than before.

“Alright, makes sense. I’m gonna go below deck, got some things to do before we sail,” Koala said with a wave. She gave a curt nod to Sabo which he returned. If you really were a giant den den, the RA would be able to use your talents for an incredible advantage. You’d have to train of course, and Sabo could aid you with the help of his own devil fruit…but that was for later. Right now Sabo didn’t care about any of that, he needed to find out about his past.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, giving a curtsy. Sabo sniffed out his nose, yet another trapping of the upper class that had been drilled into you. Sabo danced his fingers along your arm, ending by wrapping them loosely around your neck. You shivered as he leaned down to speak softly into your ear, his fingers splaying over your carotid. Your heart beat fast as Sabo blew hot air on the exposed skin of your neck. 

“ Now that we’re alone, I do have one more question for you,” Sabo asked, watching goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Y-yeah?” you stuttered out. 

“You didn’t like wearing underwear when we were kids. Is that still the case?” he whispered. It was true, Sabo rationalized. You really hadn’t liked wearing them, something he had noticed one day. He hadn’t shared that information with anyone (WHO?) but did start letting you climb to the tree house first on days when you wore a skirt. Your eyes opened wide as you slowly turned to face him. Sabo grinned, he was going to be kissing you by the end of the night.

Instead, your arm reared back and you punched him in the nose.

Notes:

“Try this one,” Thatch urged you, as the yellow juice slid down your hand.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” you said after eating the fruit and licking the juice off your fingers. He had given you something called a mayngo, an Eurt fruit you’d never had before. Well, you technically hadn’t had any fruit from Eurt before now, but you didn’t think that was an important distinction to make. 

“Can I have some more?” you asked, eyeing the rest of the yellowish orange fruit. As you had long imagined, Eurt had delightful fruits and vegetables. Lafftale only had a select few varieties of Eurt plants that were constantly being regrown, so there wasn’t any variety to your diet there. And Marco was right, Thatch had a whole supply of Eurt foods, and you were all too happy to try every single one of them.

“You said that about everything I’ve given you!” Thatch exclaimed with a smile. He clearly wasn’t upset by your assessment, his chest puffed up with pride. He’d given you Eurt fruits like mango, apples, and papaya, and vegetables as well. He also had prepared foods like bread, cheese, and cookies. You thought you were going to pop, but you couldn’t stop yourself from eating everything he offered you.

“Yeah, but it’s true. Everything you’ve made has been incredible,” you said happily, your hand on your stomach. You weren’t even lying to satisfy him – you really hadn’t ever had such tasty food in your life. If you could eat warm bread forever, you would.

“What were you eating before? Dust? You said you didn’t have any meat on Lafftale,” Thatch said with a laugh, though his eyes were sharp. His tongue flicked out over his mouth as he waited for you to answer. Oh, he thought he’d glean information from you just like that?

“You’re right, only dust,” you agreed, giving away nothing. A small sound had Thatch glancing at his controller.

“Bah. Marco says it’s time for you to come back to him in his lab. He says he has something for you to do,” Thatch said, flicking away an incoming message. You frowned – what could Marco want you to do? You’d already orgasmed once that day, you didn’t need any more vaccines, you weren’t tired…you supposed you would find out. 

“I don’t wanna do anything else, I wanna stay here and eat more,” you complained. Maybe Thatch would intercede for you, though you doubted it. And actually, your stomach was pretty full from all the samples he’d given you. Maybe it was time to head back before you gave yourself a stomachache. 

“I bet he doesn’t even have anything for you to do, he’s probably just jealous,” Thatch scoffed. “He can’t stand that you love me more than him,” he said with a wide, teasing grin, his tail flicking once behind him.

“Yeah right. I love the food you give me for sure, but I’m not settled on you yet,” you tossed back, aiming for a joke. You were tense until Thatch laughed, placating your nerves. 

“We have plenty of time to get to know one another. I’m sure you’ll come around to me sooner or later, everyone does. I’m the only one with mangoes, and the cacao is almost ready to harvest. I’m sure you’re gonna want to try that when it’s ready. There’s a reason the crew like me more than Marco, everyone likes the chef more than the doctor,” Thatch said as he lifted you off the counter and set you back on the floor. 

When you first arrived at the kitchen, you had worried that Thatch would try touching you or initiating too much contact with you. But beyond helping you on and off the counter, he hadn’t really touched you at all, beyond a few finger grazes when offering you food.

“What’s cacao?” you asked, squinting your eyes.

“It’s what chocolate is made from,” Thatch clarified. Your eyes went wide and your mouth dropped open.

“I always wanted to try it! It’s been my dream!” you squealed, gripping his chef’s coat. Thatch nearly wrapped his fingers around your hand, stopping at the last moment with a small frown.

“Yes, but I don’t think I was supposed to tell you,” Thatch said with a grimace, scratching the back of his neck. “Vista wanted to be the one to let you know but I couldn’t help myself. Not when you look like that at me,” he explained, pinching your cheek. You thought for a moment – you hadn’t given him puppy eyes or anything. Thatch was definitely weak to the charms of humans, you thought. A ping on your controller told you that you had an incoming message and you didn’t have to be a real Three Eyes to know who was sending it.

“Alright, I think it’s time I go. Marco’s getting annoyed,” you said, not really reading the message as you flicked it away. Thatch also got a message, which he scanned quickly.

“Oh, uh, right. Luna, before you go, I have something I need to show you,” Thatch said, suddenly standing up straight. Whereas before he had been relaxed and cheerful, he now seemed rigid and wooden. Your senses were on high alert – change wasn’t always good. 

“What’s up?” you asked, suspicious of his sudden change in demeanor.

“Follow me,” he said, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. You crossed the kitchen floor with him as he led you to a cupboard that was roughly your height.

“If, for whatever reason, you ever need to get food and there is no one to help you, it is located here,” Thatch said, opening the cupboard. “Normally, Marco or I will bring you food, but in the event that we are not here, everything in this cupboard is safe for you to consume. If you open any of the containers, the food will be fresh. There are also meal bars that are suitable for you,” Thatch said, gesturing to the trays and bars. 

“Alright,” you agreed, giving him a slow nod. You could use these foods for when you made your escape. 

“So if you need to take food, take it only from here,” he reiterated, looking you right in the eyes.

“I got it. Only take food from here if I ever need it,” you repeated back to him, letting him know you understood. Thatch nodded at you solemnly, before forcing a smile over his mouth seconds later.

“But you probably won’t need to do anything like that, so I can stop worrying,” he said with an uneasy grin.

“Sure. Ok, well, um, I’m gonna go,” you said, pointing towards the door. That whole interaction had been so weird and stiff. What the hell was Thatch’s problem? It was good information but why had it made him so nervous to say it? You also didn’t want to die from poisonous ingredients and you hadn’t tried to eat anything that wasn’t served to you. 

“Aw, well, make sure to take time to see me again!” Thatch said, breaking into a true smile. “And let me know if you get lost on your way back to the lab. Wait, do you need directions?! You can ask me for them! Or Marco! Or Izou! Or –”

“No, I’m good. I have a map. OK bye,” you said quickly with a final wave before turning to leave out the main door of the kitchen. Any being in your way suddenly moved to the side like you were repulsing them, like they’d been told to get out of your way. You narrowed your eyes – something was definitely going on. 

You’d keep everything in mind but right now you wanted to walk around the ship by yourself. Pulling up your map once the door to the kitchen closed again, a blinking dot indicated where you were in the ship. The Moby was well structured, with its spoke and wheel design easy to navigate. You would have been able to find Marco’s lab and room even without the small picture of himself smiling that hovered above it on your map. You scowled, did Marco not remember you had navigated space by yourself? 

Setting out, you walked along the mostly empty hallways along the path to Marco’s lab. Your eyes flicked between your map and the hallways as you walked, making sure you were going in the correct direction. It was easy going and you really could have taken a direct route back to the lab. But instead you decided to take a longer route, a path that would allow you to explore more of the ship. After all, you could blame taking longer on being unfamiliar with the ship or taking a wrong turn. There was no way Marco would be able to fault you for your path as long as you eventually made it back, right? 

But as you passed the entrance to another wing, you noticed a discrepancy. You stood back against the wall, your eyes flicking rapidly between the map on your controller and what you were seeing with your eyes. Thankfully, the hallway was deserted and you could think to yourself without having to worry about anyone else watching you. You were in the general area of the Second Division, but you weren’t quite sure where this new area would lead since it wasn’t delineated on your map.

There was no doubt about it, some sections of the ship had been redacted from your map. Now what could be behind the doors that Marco didn’t want you to see? You chewed your lip as you considered your options. Maybe it contained something that was dangerous for you, something that you shouldn’t be near. You rubbed your forehead in thought. No, that wasn’t likely. If there was something on the ship you couldn’t be near Marco probably would have told you or highlighted the area bright red with a skull on it or something. 

Which meant that there was maybe something interesting or important behind that door, something Marco didn’t want you looking at. You licked your lips, thinking about what to do. You could always feign ignorance and tell him that you’d taken a wrong turn? Marco might fall for that, but probably not. You sighed and cracked your knuckles – hopefully whatever was behind that door was worth a spanking if Marco caught you.

You held up your controller to the panel, testing to see if it would work to open the door. Marco had told you that your controller now worked as a kind of key and that you could use it to open most doors on the ship like his did. Maybe he hadn’t thought to restrict your access to this one since it wasn’t on your map. Hopefully it didn’t send him an alarm or anything and you could plausibly deny doing anything wrong. You held your breath as the light on the control pad blinked for a moment, the door sliding open seconds later. Exhaling your breath, you stole into the area before the door could close. 

Inside was quite dark, you couldn’t really make out much. The lights probably hadn’t been adjusted for you since you clearly weren’t supposed to be in here. You walked along the wall, using your hand for guidance as you strained to make out anything in the murky blackness. Maybe you could convince Marco to put a light on your controller, you thought.

“Oi! What’s a little human doing in the old escape pod hangar? Lemme get a good look at’cha,” a voice boomed out from the inky darkness. Your head whipped around, trying to find the source of the sound. Before you could blink, your wrists were each captured above your head, a black tentacle pulling them higher and pinning them to the wall behind you. You grunted as you stretched up onto your toes – whoever this was, they hadn’t gotten the message that everyone else seemed to. Was this being another Cnidarian? 

“Marco’s been keeping you under lock and key all to himself. Never planned on sharing you with the rest of us, eh? ZEHAHAHAHAHAHA,” the being laughed, despite nothing being funny. You grimaced as a being finally came into view. This being was tall, easily twice Ace’s height, with a long beard, missing teeth, gold earrings, and crazed eyes. He looked almost exactly like a Cnidarian, but slightly darker. There was something different about him though, like he was wearing a costume over another form.

You had long learned to follow your gut instincts and right now they were screaming at you that this guy was dangerous. You swallowed thickly, trying to think of the best way to get away from him without alerting Marco. Luckily, the being didn’t seem to want or need interaction from you to keep going.

“Tch, such an ugly thing. Breakable, too. I heard what happened with Ace,” he continued, a sick smile coming onto his face as the grip on your wrists tightened. You wanted to scoff that it was rich hearing you were ugly coming from him but you didn’t think that was the best idea at the moment. The idea to call for Marco flitted through your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. If you cried for Marco, he’d never let you go anywhere on the ship alone ever again. Hopefully this being would tire of tormenting you soon and you could get away.

“Well, not really heard. Smelled. That meat of yours was absolutely mouthwatering when he seared it. And your blood? Oh, I can’t wait to get a sip. Don’t get me wrong, I can smell that sweet cunt from across the hangar, but that’s the thing about humans,” he said, a humanoid hand coming up to squish your cheeks together. Marco had done similar gestures before but it hadn’t made your skin crawl the same way this being was now. 

Holy fuck this being wanted to eat you, you thought as your breath came in short pants. With another tentacle he hoisted you higher by your arms until your feet were no longer touching the ground. A dark tentacle ran along the inside of your thighs as you dangled, making you squirm. It felt similar to Izou’s, but less solid, almost like it was made of sooty darkness. You cringed backwards, internally apologizing to Marco for disobeying his rules. Maybe they had been in place for a reason, you thought, screwing your eyes shut. Because this being was going to grill and eat you alive, leaving nothing but the suit you were wearing.

“You’re tasty any way you come. At first I thought I should sell ya, make tons of money and be done with you. But now, now, I really wanna eat cha. Meal fit for an Emperor,” he said, bringing his face close enough to yours that you could feel his breath on your face. He smelled rancid, even to your dull senses, like carrion and sewage. You tried breathing through your mouth to avoid the rank smell. His small, beady eyes were glued to you, watching every movement you made. 

“Nothin’ to say, girlie? That’s fine, that’s not what yer useful for,” he said, his long, thin tongue licking up your cheek. You shuddered, wondering if this was how you would meet your ignoble end. Hopefully Marco torched this guy after he ate you, you thought, preparing to kick at him. If you were going to be killed, you wanted to at least try fighting. It would probably be useless based on his size, but you wanted to try. Your controller pinged above your head, likely from your rapidly increasing heart rate. The being’s eyes flicked to your controller, a cold, cruel smile breaking out over his face once again.

“ZEHAHAHAHA looks like someone is missing you already. Well I won’t keep your current owner waiting. We’ll meet again, I’m sure,” he said, releasing you suddenly. You dropped to the floor, falling in a pile. You didn’t wait to hear this being’s next thoughts about humans. You scrambled to your feet and opened the door, running as fast as you could away from the darkened hallway. Your lungs and legs were burning but you weren’t going to find out if he wanted to fuck you before or after he killed you. The only sound you heard above your thumping heart was his booming laugh as you ran down the hallway.

Marco POV

Marco watched your little dot draw rapidly closer to the lab on his controller. He had been watching your progress the entire time after you’d left the kitchens, monitoring exactly where you were going and at what speed. Just like he had guessed, at first you had been taking your time and meandering through the ship. You were generally headed in the right direction, but taking every hallway and turn that would make the journey take longer. 

You had even detected an area that wasn’t on your map and had hesitantly entered it for a few moments. It was the deck where old escape pods were stored in case of emergency, some hangar in the back of the Second Division wing. He and Izou had redacted that location from your map because they were guiding you to “steal” one of the newer escape pods. The older escape pods, much like the one that you had navigated before, were harder to pilot and more finicky. It would be safer for you to use the newer ones, and they had been preparing a perfect pod for you to take. The crew was warned not to use pod 10-5 – it was able to be tracked and remotely controlled by the main ship, unlike all the other escape pods.

Marco watched your dot enter the hangar and stay still, not moving forward into the area. It was probably dark for you, you likely wouldn’t be able to see what was there. Marco didn’t blame you for going inside – he knew humans were curious by nature – but every second that you weren’t with a Commander was nerve wracking for him. Normally Marco would soothe himself by setting you on his lap and petting you, but that outlet wasn’t available to him either. Marco understood the importance of the plan he and Izou had put into effect, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. 

Within a few minutes of you being in the hangar, your dot had left suddenly and made a beeline back to his lab. Marco trilled at your wonderful behavior. Clearly, you had thought about the implications of disobeying him and had decided to leave the hangar of your own volition. Marco remembered you were afraid of the dark, so perhaps that was what was propelling your rapid motion. Either way, Marco was proud you hadn’t gone deeper into the area.

Marco turned off his holomap as you approached the lab, your dot finally slowing down. Your heart rate and blood pressure were elevated, probably because you finally ran for a brief moment. Marco tutted – thankfully he’d already made plans to start helping your poor cardiovascular system. Wherever Lafftale was, there clearly wasn’t sufficient space for you to exercise. 

The door to Marco’s lab slid open and you barreled straight into the room. Marco was slightly surprised, normally you were on edge when you were in the lab. You stopped right in front of him, placing your hands on your thighs and breathing heavily. 

“Mar – Marco,” you huffed, still out of breath from your run. Marco slid off his chair and went to the cupboard to grab your glass. He filled it with water before handing it to you, your face still hot from your brief sprint. You grabbed the glass and chugged the water, some of it spilling down the sides of your mouth. Marco took the glass back and set it on the table, watching your heart rate slowly lower on his controller.

“HAH th-thanks HAH,” you panted, finally standing back upright. It had taken you about seven minutes to completely recover from a 3 minute run. Not a great sign, Marco thought as he gave you a brief visual inspection.

“Are you alright yoi?” Marco asked mildly, standing in front of you. He really wanted to scoop you up and sit you in his lap but he was bound by the stupid rules. You looked up at him, your guilty expression quickly covered by an unconvincing smile.

“Yea-yeah! I’m great. Thank you for letting me walk back by myself,” you said, taking deep breaths. As soon as you stopped breathing heavily, you looked up at him, your human eyes opened wider than usual. You took a small step and flung your arms around his waist, rubbing your cheek against his middle for a moment. Marco blinked rapidly before tentatively winding his arms around you as well. Finally having you back in his arms felt so right, so perfect. And you had initiated the contact after all, so he couldn’t get in trouble.

You squeezed him briefly before letting go and standing up straight once again. Marco quickly let go of you in return, giving you full freedom of movement. 

“What was that about?” Marco asked as you leaned against his desk. You shrugged your shoulders and looked away, not answering his question. Marco didn’t want to prod you too much in case you became embarrassed and didn’t repeat the movement. 

“Alright, keep your secrets yoi,” Marco said with an indulgent smile. Maybe Izou was right – having you initiate the contact felt much more rewarding than when he commanded your presence. It was the difference between something taken and something given, he mused as you looked around the lab, your eyes darting among all his equipment.

“What are you working on?” you asked, standing up to walk over to a few samples on a far work bench. 

“I am synthesizing more vaccines and cures for Oro’s virus,” Marco said, trying to lay the bait for you without making it too obvious. Your nose scrunched as you touched the outside of your thigh where he had injected you all those times.

“Why? I thought you said I don’t need it,” you replied, drumming your fingers on the bench. Marco chirped in laughter, you were such a funny little thing.

“You don’t. But the Whitebeard Pirates may be recruiting soon and others might, Luna. You are not the only being who I concern myself with yoi,” Marco answered. You tilted your head in consideration, and Marco could almost hear the thoughts forming in your mind. 

The vials didn’t actually contain any live ingredients, they were filled with plain injection fluid. Administering any of those “cures” wouldn’t do anything to any being. There also wasn’t any recruiting event, and no one would have Oro’s virus even if there was. The virus wasn’t an issue any longer since Oro’s had been eradicated throughout the universe. The whole setup was so  you would think you were getting what you needed. It ultimately wouldn’t matter since they’d be following you to Lafftale and he could aid any ill humans, but Marco knew you wouldn’t leave without getting a “cure.” 

Marco had done a lot of thinking about your meager comments around Oro’s virus. Based on your surprise that there was a vaccine and a cure, he was guessing Lafftale hadn’t heard the news yet. He had long realized that the remote location that you had been living had at some point had been exposed to Oro’s virus, but that wasn’t unique to Lafftale. Nearly every corner of the universe had been exposed at one point or another. You had mentioned that you had gone to space for supplies, so Marco assumed that you were looking for more vaccines or cures for  the virus. He was going to find out if his hypothesis was correct when you made your escape.

“I keep many vaccines and medications on hand in case of need. The health of the crew is my highest priority,” Marco said, trying not to lay on the information too thickly. “These are done, actually. I’ll put them away and then we have to go,” Marco informed you as he began placing the vaccines in injectors. Marco could practically feel your eyes on him as he placed the injectors in an unlocked cabinet. Shutting the door easily, Marco turned around and clapped his hands together.

“Off we go to the gymnasium yoi,” Marco said in a chipper tone. Now your face really did fall as you gave him a nasty look.

“No. I don’t want to,” you said, your arms akimbo. You were cute when you were defiant but Marco wasn’t going to budge.

“I didn’t ask. It is time to begin working on your cardiovascular health. You are not in good physical condition yoi,” Marco explained instead of throwing you over his shoulder and simply carrying you as he wanted to. Really, he should be given a reward for how patient he was being.

“But…but you said I can make choices now,” you said with a pout. Oh, so defiance hadn’t worked so you were trying to work on him from a different angle. Without being able to touch you, it was easier to see how you were operating. Frankly, Marco wouldn’t have given in no matter what you did, but it was adorable to see you pout. 

“Yes, you are able to make some choices now. However, I told you that I would foster your independence as long as it didn’t interfere with your health. You must increase your stamina yoi,” Marco said with a frown. You looked at him for a moment before sighing, likely weighing your options. Marco wore a stern expression, and folded his arms across his chest.

“Fiiiiine. Lead the way,” you said dejectedly. You began moving slowly, with your limbs loose, like Marco was taking you to a torture chamber. Based on your reaction, it may have felt the same to you.

A short while later, Marco pushed open the door to the gymnasium for you.  Only Commanders were allowed to use the exercise room at this time, which was why Marco had reserved the loop for you now. You were hesitant to walk in, your eyes flicking around the various crew exercising. You were sticking closely to Marco’s side, your little fingers winding around his forearm. It was getting increasingly difficult to not touch you but Marco would have to persevere. Once the humans had been captured, he would again be able to touch you as much as he pleased.

Marco was a little surprised at your reluctance to enter the gymnasium given how much more comfortable you seemed on the ship. But then he remembered the first time he’d walked with you through the hallways – perhaps your trepidation remained when there were many crew members about. You were still frail and vulnerable, perhaps that was on the top of your mind given how large most of the equipment was.

“Who’s here right now?” you asked, trying to get a look at everyone in the exercise room.

“You know everyone here. Actually, Ace is on the piece of equipment that you need right now yoi,” Marco said, putting his hand behind your back to gently push you forward in a rare moment of weakness. He walked you towards a recessed area in the wall of the ship. It looked almost like an empty circular space, though there was a track that ran around the loop. Ace was running at his top speed, nearly able to climb the walls of the track with his speed and claws. He was running on all fours, the way he did when he was pushing himself to the maximum. Even Marco could see the beauty of Ace’s fluid elegance. Despite his young age, Ace was incredibly strong, and it was evident when he ran.

“Oi, Ace. It’s Luna’s turn. She needs to walk so get off the machine,” Marco said, waving his hand to signal Ace's attention. Ace grinned and ran with a burst of increased speed for a moment before jumping off. As always he landed gracefully on his feet, a feat which you admired with a sharp inhale of breath. Though after a second you looked between the still spinning track and Marco.

“I can’t go that fast, Marco! You’re gonna kill me,” you whined, clutching on Marco’s arm. Ace laughed as he drank some water, his tail flicking in interest.

“It only goes as fast as you go. It’s self propelling. You’ll do great! I’ll even walk next to you. It can be like we’re strolling together,” Ace offered, extending his hand. No way on Eurt, Marco thought with a scowl on his face.

“No, Ace. Luna needs to walk on her own yoi,” Marco said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Marco, this sucks. I don’t want to walk in there,” you complained, looking up at him.

“I know. But you have to walk. Each time you do it, it will help you get a little stronger. Eventually you will thank me. Who knows? Maybe you’ll run into my arms one day,” he said with a smile. You scowled at him. Marco’s smile brightened.

“I’ll help you get into the wheel.”

Your POV

This was it. 

This was what was going to spur you to kill Marco and everyone else who had gathered to watch you walk on the stupid wheel. It didn’t matter how, you were going to find a way to do it. They were all going to die and it wasn’t because they were jeering or leering at you. 

No, it was worse.

They were encouraging you. 

“THIS FUCKING SUCKS!” you yelled at the small crowd of Commanders, your face already hot. You were both embarrassed and already tired so your face had no chance of getting any less red. You’d only been walking for ten minutes but it felt like an hour.

“Luna, calm down. Save your breath for walking yoi,” Marco said, leaning against the wall near the wheel. He’d taken up his position to discourage anyone else from getting on with you, though you didn’t think he’d admit it. 

“You’re doing great, girlie!” Vista said, extending a scythe in an approximation of a thumbs up.

“GO AWAY!” you yelled back, running out of breath as you walked. OK, so maybe Marco had a point about your health. It wasn’t like there was tremendous space for walking or running on Lafftale. Besides, it was boring to walk in circles endlessly there. So, yeah, you couldn’t walk for a long time. But no one had cared until now. 

“Only a bit longer! You got this!” encouraged Blenheim from behind Marco.

“THERE’S NOTHING INTERESTING HAPPENING! YOU’VE ALL SEEN ME WALK BEFORE!” you objected again. You wished you could turn to face the wall so you didn’t see them but there was no way to walk other than forward. Like Ace had said, the wheel only went as fast as you walked. But as you continued to walk, the wheel continued to turn, making it so you had to keep walking. It sucked so hard and you hated it so much. 

“Five more minutes, Luna. You can have a treat after for a job well done yoi,” Marco said placidly, sharpening his talons. It was easy for him to say – he wasn’t the one on the fucking wheel. Though, based on what you’d seen of Marco, he didn’t need it like you did. If you had the power to vaporize him with your mind he’d be dust in an instant. 

“Five more minutes, Luna,” you mocked in a high, quiet voice to yourself. Marco hid his smile behind his mouth for a moment before frowning, which only made you angrier.

“Don’t mistake my recent leniency for a tolerance of disrespect. You wouldn’t want me to punish you here, would you?” Marco threatened.

“I’M SORRY AND I’M ALREADY BEING PUNISHED!” 

End Notes:

Luna is figuring it out, give her time. It’s not been long for her, only a couple hours since Marco changed his habits. I took some liberties with Teech. He’s disguised (kinda) as a Cnidarian rn but he’s not actually one what a stinker. And also she has to go in the hamster wheel bc i think it's funny. Does anyone else hate when people are giving encouragement at times like that or it's just me and Luna?

After Dragon confirmed your worst fears, you shut yourself off to the world, focusing only on what you could produce for the Revolutionary Army. You spent every second of your time in your lab and reacted like a wild animal when anyone tried to stop you. You knew you were lashing out but you couldn’t stop yourself from your violent reactions. Even Dragon had backed off after you shrank his whiskey and hid it until he let you back in your lab. You had the sense that everyone was concerned for you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.  You didn’t want to hear any pithy sayings, or get a pat on the arm, or pulled into a hug or anything like that.  No, there was no more time.

Everyone was scared for and of you, but they didn’t grasp the full impact of what the world had seen. No one did. Sabo’s death was destroying you from the inside, but the pressure to defend the free world was crushing you. The power that Imu and the World Government had shown was incomprehensible, something that you’d never thought you would witness in your lifetime. 

You alone could come up with something to help fight the World Government, to undo the damage you’d already wrought in the world. Dragon said that you were all working together, but what could they do against a weapon like that? No, you needed to work and create a solution to that horrible weapon. And how could you rest when so many people’s lives were at stake? You didn’t dare to take any time off – you needed to crack how the World Government had powered those weapons and quickly.

So you holed up in your lab day after day, endlessly toiling to understand the Mother Flame and the ancient weapons it was powering. Yes, your constant working was self destructive, but you didn’t care. You would rather spend your time working and thinking about your discoveries than have to process your feelings about Sabo and his death.

It wasn’t long after he left that you came to terms with your true feelings for him – you were hopelessly in love with Sabo. Yes, your meeting had come with a rocky start but by now you couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t include Sabo. Which made the news of his tragic and untimely death all the worse – you’d missed your opportunity. Someone had said something about more fish in the sea, but you knew better. There was only one person for you, and unfortunately, he was no longer.

So any second that wasn’t being consumed with work had you wracked with guilt and regret. How could you have let things end that way between you and Sabo? Sabo had given his life to free the people of the world and you couldn’t even be brave enough to admit your romantic feelings to him. Every time you thought about Sabo you’d end up in tears so you forced yourself to push him to the side, to deal with him later, once you finally cracked the Mother Flame.

Ace had called a few times, saying something about Sabo’s vivre paper, but you ignored the calls and let it go to message. You were sure Ace was having an extremely difficult time with the loss of his brother and needed support, but you were feeling selfish. You didn’t want to talk to Ace, you didn’t want to talk to Dragon, you didn’t want to do anything but bury yourself in work in the hope that it would kill the overwhelming grief and regret that stabbed at you every day. And without anyone to stop you, you worked until you passed out and then began the process again. 

But right now you actually felt somewhat alright. You must have fallen asleep on the floor rather than on your desk this time, you thought as you stretched your limbs out. Your hand was resting on something soft – was that a pillow? You opened up your eyes a little more and tried to rub at the other. Something was amiss – what happened before you went to sleep? Had someone finally dragged you out of the lab? Were you still asleep?

Looking around, your heart fell as you saw where you were. You were in Sabo’s room, the one right next to your own. When Sabo had first left, you’d spent your nights sleeping in his bed rather than your own. You deluded yourself into thinking you could still feel his warmth and smell his particular smoky scent, no matter how foolish the notion was. It was better than sleeping in your own room, alone, for the first time in however many months. Loneliness pricked at you night after night, but you had thoughts of Sabo returning home to keep you sated and happy. 

However, after the destruction of Lulusia, you’d taken to living in the lab rather than having to come back and see Sabo’s belongings time after time. Everything in his room was one more reminder of your failures, both personal and professional. You hadn’t ever confessed to him, and you hadn’t prevented the destruction of an entire nation at the hands of the World Government. You didn’t deserve better than living like a mangy dog. 

Sabo’s room felt more like a slap in the face than the gentle caress it had before, and you were too cowardly to confront the realities once more. So instead, you stayed in your microscopic lab, flagellating yourself by sleeping on the floor or on your desk. Sabo would have reprimanded you, but he wasn’t around to do that any longer.

As your thoughts turned back towards Sabo (as they always did) you brought your finger to your mouth and found them all bandaged. You picked at one of the bandages, trying to remember which one was the least bitten. At some point you had taken to bandaging them, since your fingers were bleeding all over your papers. But you usually left one available, your need to worry at your skin too overpowering to allow your fingers to heal. 

Instead, you looked out the window for the first time. Like your room, Sabo’s was arranged so that you could easily see out of your right eye without turning your head. It was one of the small details that you’d never think of, but that he always did. Your heart constricted with the thoughts of Sabo and his cleverness, his thoughtfulness, and his intelligence. That was all gone now, and you had to go back to work. Luckily, you could summon Dream Sabo at will now, who could be your companion until you finally snapped your tether to reality.

Wait, hadn’t something happened with Dream Sabo yesterday? You rubbed your forehead, trying to remember exactly what your dream had been. Even though Dream Sabo always hurt your heart when you woke, you didn’t want the hallucinations to stop. It was merely wish fulfillment, you knew that, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting him to be real for the few moments you could still have him. It was delusional and self destructive, but you didn’t care. 

At first, you only saw Dream Sabo when you were asleep. You did some quick research on lucid dreaming and began interacting with your Dream Sabo that way. But you realized you were starting to lose it when Sabo started appearing as hallucinations while you were awake. It was a welcome change from the loneliness that you felt and you often talked to him or did other activities. Dream Sabo was your near constant companion. He was your outlet for everything you wished you could have said or done. You were aware that he was an illusion, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. 

Thinking back to the previous night, Dream Sabo had been the most elaborate and wonderful creation you’d ever made, complete with sensation and smell. Dream Sabo had finally convinced you that he had come home again and that he was back in your arms. You didn’t go as far as you normally did, only kissing and some light fondling, but that was OK. Even the dreams with conversation were a respite from the emotions that threatened to break you. Your heart constricted at the thought of Sabo coming home. That was always the worst part – waking up.

You turned over in the bed, your overworked brain thinking you’d caught his scent one last time. Tears pricked your vision as you inhaled deeply – Sabo was gone, and there was nothing you could do about it. You’d begged him not to trick you again, but your wishful thinking overpowered your loneliness time and again. 

Last night, like always, you told Sabo that you loved him and that you regretted not telling him sooner. You felt a tear tracking down your cheek as you remembered his warmth, his smile, and even his stare. You almost hoped you dreamed of him like that again, but it made living in the real world so much harder. Koala had told you that you needed to accept his death, but her words had made you too upset to listen to. You’d enlarged her hat to cover her before she could continue patronizing you. 

You looked down and humphed – you had changed your clothes before you went to sleep. Normally, you wore Sabo’s old blue shirt, but you had changed for a clean white one and nothing else. Eh, what did you care? You were probably due for a change of clothes anyway, and definitely a shower. 

You gave a heavy sigh in preparation for the day (looking out the window, it seemed it was late morning). Back to the grind, you thought, swinging your legs over the bed. 

“Time for work,” you said to yourself, trying to remember where exactly you’d left off on your experiments. You were getting closer to cracking the Mother Flame day by day but you were still quite far from finishing the project. As soon as your feet made contact with the ground, your head swiveled towards the sound of a creaking chair. You weren’t alone? You internally cursed, your drive towards a singular goal was always the cause of trouble.

“Absolutely not,” a familiar voice stated, set with determination. You smiled at your man, Dream Sabo coming into view as you turned your head farther to the left. He was sitting at the small writing desk by the wall, going through the stacks of papers that had been left for him. He looked like he always had, tall and slim, his blond hair over his bad eye, his familiar gloves on both hands. Even his goggled top hat resting on his desk, a detail that wasn’t always there in your dreams. You really must be feeling better to get something like that down.

“Hiya Sabo,” you said brightly, stretching your arms overhead. “Did you change my clothes?” you asked, mildly curious. Obviously, you had been the one to do it but maybe Dream Sabo would have something interesting to say.

“I did, yes. And I think this is a new record for you, you slept for 18 hours,” Sabo said, almost proudly. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed near you, watching you calmly.

“No wonder I feel refreshed," you said with a hum, your mind already wandering back to your experiments. 

“Sunny, do you know where you are? What’s going on?” he asked, concern etched in the furrowing of his brows. You laughed a little, he was being so cute today. It seemed like you were really in Sabo’s room, so you’d have to make your way back to the lab. You could pass by the mess hall on the way and get fresh coffee, something you weren’t sure you’d had in a while.

“Yeah, I do. I think I’m actually in Sabo’s room, I must have wandered back here. It’s ok though, I can find my lab again. I probably left it outside,” you said with a shrug. “What’s going on is that I need to get back to work and continue working –” Sabo’s hand reached for yours, holding your hand loosely.

“No. You’re not working today. You’re in really bad shape, Sunny. You haven’t been taking care of yourself at all,” he continued, squeezing your hand.

“Aw, quit it Sabo,” you griped without heat. What was he going to do – stop you? Sitting up, you stretched your legs and prepared to get back to it. No sense in delaying what needed to be done, excellent Dream Sabo or not.

“Well, I’m off –”

“No. You’re not,” Sabo said, serious this time as his fingertips settled against your upper chest, preventing you from getting out of the bed. You laughed in his face, you loved when you imagined him this way. It was so similar to how Sabo actually was that it was impossible not to enjoy when he stood up to you in your imagination.

“Alright, alright. I’ll take a shower first. Is that better? And are you joining me?” you asked with a chuckle, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. Sabo sputtered, his eyes fixed to your naked thighs that lifting your arms revealed. You weren’t wearing anything underneath either, you remembered as cool air hit your ass. Sabo hadn’t missed that detail either, as his gaze was riveted to you.

“Oh, uh. I – yes. Yes. Yes, of course,” Sabo said, his attention not wavering as you started unbuttoning his shirt. He was already in the process of removing his gloves when he shook himself slightly. His hair fell back over his bad eye as he looked up at you.

“Wait, no. No, Sunny. I’m not joining you, not yet,” he corrected himself. You shifted your weight to one foot and jutted your hip, confused by his actions. Dream Sabo always joined you in the shower…

“What? But you always shower with me when you’re around. Do you not love me anymore?” you said with a pout. What an erratic Dream Sabo, you thought. He stood up and quickly reached for you, cupping your face in his warm hands. You smiled as you looked up at his sincere face, a little sorry for having teased him so much. Dream Sabo was only a dream, after all. 

“I love you with every fiber of my being. I would love to join you in the shower. I’ve dreamed of it myself many, many times. But I can’t do it now. Not like this. You still think I’m dead,” Sabo said with a frown.

“Sabo, don’t,” you said, backing away from him slowly. This Dream Sabo was persistent in telling you he was real, something that had bothered you the night before too. Dream Sabo stood up next to you, and took your hands in his own. 

“Sunny. Listen to me. I know it’s hard, I know. But I’m here. I’m real,” Dream Sabo continued. Your eyes bounced around his face as you bit your lip.

“Stop,” you said hesitantly, trying to pull your hands away from his. Dream Sabo’s strength was more significant than you remembered, you were unable to extricate yourself from his grasp. But Dream Sabo couldn’t stop you from doing anything…Dream Sabo never went against your wishes…Dream Sabo didn’t ever frown at you…

“No, I can’t. Sunny, please. Please, listen and understand. I’m not a hallucination,” he said, using one hand to push some of your hair off your face. You frowned at him, you didn’t want to hear all this again. 

“Send me away,” he said, looking into your eyes. 

“What?” you asked, taken aback. Dream Sabo never, ever asked to be sent away. You stared back into his eyes, your brow furrowing. His were brighter than you remembered them, the milky one reminding you of Uranus. Wait…Uranus…Lulusia…the mother flame…

“Hold on, I need to write something down,” you said, your moment with Dream Sabo slipping from your mind. Your eyes landed on the papers on Dream Sabo’s desk, where he’d been writing when you woke up. You pulled your hands from Sabo’s and walked towards his desk, needing to jot your idea down before you forgot it.

“Sunny, please. This is important –”

“No, not now. I had a thought about the ancient weapons and I need to write it –” Your words trailed off as you looked at the papers on his desk. Dream Sabo had written correspondences before, that wasn’t new. You’d seen Real Sabo doing that many times, so it was an activity your mind supplied occasionally. You spread the papers over the desk, glancing at them. Some of the names you recognized but some of them you’d never heard of before. It was strange to see Dream Sabo writing to people you didn’t know, but maybe your mind had supplied some new information? But Dream Sabo only knew what you knew… You brought your finger up to your mouth, remembering at the last moment that all of your fingertips were bandaged.

“What’s wrong?” Dream Sabo said, standing behind you. You felt his familiar warmth behind you, his breath fanning over your neck.

“I don’t know – you’re being weird today,” you said, while looking for a pen and blank piece of paper. You had a headache brewing, you needed to get some coffee. Dream Sabo kissed your exposed shoulder while you pushed things around on his desk.

“I have the pen. There’s nothing else to write with here,” Dream Sabo said, toying with the ends of your hair.

“Give it,” you demanded, holding out your hand. But Dream Sabo never interfered with your physical area outside of your dream, he wasn’t able to…

“No. Send me away,” Sabo said behind you, whispering into your ear. You turned to him and rested your forehead on his shoulder, sighing heavily. One of his hands settled on your waist and you leaned against him, enjoying how solid he was. You could really use another nap, you thought, but there wasn’t any time. The lab was calling for you and you needed to keep working.

“I don’t want to. Life is better when you’re with me. Tell me where the pen is,” you murmured, looking up at him. You twined your arms around his neck, enjoying the comfort he was providing. 

“No. But you can get rid of me, right? If I’m a hallucination, you can vanish me,” Dream Sabo said softly, his other hand running up and down your back. But Dream Sabo never said he was a hallucination…

“I can, yeah. When I need my full focus I send you away,” you mumbled, your words muffled by his clothing as your forehead rested against his shoulder.

“So do it. I’m not going to give you the pen until you do,” Dream Sabo said, cradling you against his chest. Even as he told you to get rid of him, he was drawing you closer. Your mind sputtered as you half heartedly tried to will Sabo away. He was being annoying, and you really did have to get back to the lab. Maybe you’d wake up and you’d still be in your lab, like a dream in a dream. It had happened to you a few times and it was always disorienting. But then again, you were usually working when you were asleep or awake, so it made little difference to you. 

…but wait….Dream Sabo hadn’t gone anywhere when you willed him away. You still felt his warm skin under yours, could hear his heart beating strongly. You could even smell his smoky scent, the one you tried to find in his old clothes and belongings.

Did that mean…?

Sabo POV

When Sabo and his brothers were young, Ace had frequent bouts of sleep walking. After a few nights filled with trials, errors, and blows to the head, Sabo found that the best way of getting Ace peacefully back to bed was by calmly assisting him without rousing him. He stopped trying to wake Ace up and instead guided him back to where he needed to be, allowing Ace’s body to relax and not wake in a fight or flight mode. 

Sabo had taken a similar approach to you once you woke from your lengthy sleep. You were still overtired and underfed, Sabo wasn’t under the illusion that one long burst of sleep would heal you, but at least your body had rested. You were brilliant, and your mind would work tirelessly to put together the pieces of the puzzle to finally convince you that he was real. There had already been a few glances that Sabo had interpreted as you thinking through the situation a little at a time. Sabo didn’t think there was a need to overwhelm you and bombard you with information when you’d figure it out at your own pace.

But after you’d said the shower comment, Sabo knew he had to push you a little bit. This was the second time you’d unknowingly teased him with a shower since he’d met you, and he didn’t know if he could bear a third. He wanted to gently prod you closer to the goal you were heading towards with a simple request.

“So do it. I’m not going to give you the pen until you do,” Sabo said, holding you close to his chest. Despite having slept for so long, your endurance was absolutely abysmal. You looked like you were ready to pass out again, and it wouldn’t have surprised him if you did. There had been absolutely no accountability for you while he was gone and you’d taken everything to the extreme. You were right back where you started, perhaps worse. 

“Sabo,” you whispered, looking him over all at once. Your hands roved over his back, before pushing away slightly to grab his face. There was a panicked look to your eyes, something half wild stirring within you. Sabo relaxed his shoulders – there was the crack in your delusion he was looking for.

“I’m here with you,” Sabo said, wishing he could feel every inch of your skin with his own.

“S-sabo,” you repeated, your face crumpling. Sabo was prepared for more tears, though it broke his heart each time you cried. He never wanted to be the reason for your sadness, even though this was unavoidable.

“Wh-why didn’t you sleep in bed with m-me?” was the first question that tumbled out of your mouth as your chest heaved. Sabo laughed lightly even as you ugly cried into your hands, your back shaking with the intensity of your tears. He guided you to sit on the bed and sat beside you, taking your hands again in his own and pulling them away from your face. Your fingers probed his hands, like you were unsure if he was truly there with you or not.

“Five months apart and that’s what you ask me?” he said, leaning in to kiss you. You stared at him, barely remembering to kiss him back in time. Your mouth was hanging open, like you couldn’t parse what was happening.

“And for the record, I did sleep in bed with you. I slept for about 10 hours next to you, but you’ve been sleeping for about 18. You kept trying to get up and I had to keep holding you so you’d sleep longer. Sunny, we have to talk about your health,” Sabo said with a frown. Your lower lip wobbled for a moment before you flung yourself into his arms, your scant body weight crashing against his own. Sabo landed on his back on the bed as you toppled over him, hugging him tightly.

“SabOoOoO –” you wailed, unable to control yourself any longer. Tears streamed down your face as you cried, clutching his shirt. Sabo ran his hands up and down your back soothingly, cooing at you as you cried. This was the second time in two days you’d soaked through his shirt, but he’d take 100 more if it meant you understood he was actually alive. You pushed your hand into his hair, turning his head to you. You pressed your lips to his and wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him in for a kiss. But your mind was already working overtime, and you broke the kiss to ask him questions. 

“But how are you alive? How did you survive the ancient weapon? Did you see the Mother Flame? How did you get back here? Why did you –” Sabo kissed you again, stifling your questions. His tongue swirled against your own as his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. You groaned into his mouth, grinding against him. Sabo broke the kiss to answer the very questions you asked. He knew you wouldn’t stop for long and he wanted to answer you before it tunneled deeper into your mind. 

“I wasn’t on the island, I was on a boat nearby. I didn’t see the weapon directly, I only saw the destruction it caused. There was a rebellion on the island so some of the people were with me on the boat. They’re here on the island now,” Sabo explained, his thumbs stroking the exposed skin of your thighs.

“But besides that, we have some things to discuss,” Sabo said, turning serious for a moment. You bit your lip and looked away, like you knew what he was going to say. Sabo chucked your chin, pointing your gaze back to him. 

“I wasn’t able to keep my promise to you,” Sabo said softly, pushing some of your hair off your face. 

“Wh- what are you talking about? What promise?” you asked, still holding him tightly. 

“My promise to take care of you. I left you alone and you deteriorated. You’re in really poor health, Sunny. I can’t bear to see you like this,” Sabo said quietly before kissing you again. He couldn’t get enough of you – you had been on his mind since he’d left and you were finally back in his arms again. He didn’t mean to kick you when you were down but his concern for your health overrode everything else. You waved him off with a hand.

“Oh, uh. Well, I did that on my own. And it wasn’t like you meant to have everyone think you uh –” 

“Died,” Sabo supplied.

“Right,” you said sheepishly. “Well, I was upset and thought…well you know. I guess I went a little overboard, huh?” you said with a guilty smile. Sabo smiled back before shifting positions to roll on top of you. One of his hands was planted by your head and the other stroked along your exposed hip.

“That just means I can’t really die because you’ll be joining me shortly,” Sabo said with a small laugh before bending down to gently suck along your neck. Your breath was already hitching as he kissed you, your chest flushing and your nipples puckering. Sabo desperately wanted to continue but there was something he needed to know first. 

“Yesterday, you said that you had an immense regret. Something that you confessed to your hallucination more than once. Do you remember that?” Sabo asked gently, his hands leaving your thighs to stroke your cheekbones. You nodded your head, looking into his eyes. 

“Well, I mean. I don’t remember yesterday exactly. Time is a little, er, loose for me right now. But I know what my regret is - er, was,” you replied.

“Please. Tell me again,” Sabo whispered. You licked your lips before looking deep into his eyes.

“I love you, Sabo. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he said, before leaning down to kiss you tenderly.

The End <3

“Who are you?” you demanded again, pointing your gun at the wall. Looking towards where the voice was emanating, you couldn’t see anything amiss. You were still alone in an unused room, on some forgotten wing of Level 6. The Voice was clearly a prisoner, and given the shitty construction of Impel Down, you weren’t surprised that the sound traveled through the walls. 

You bit your lip as you thought about what to do. You weren’t familiar with the inmates on this level; you worked on Level 2. You mostly fed the beasts when they couldn’t catch inmates, or cleaned out their various living areas. It wasn’t a bad job, but being locked away in an underwater prison for months at a time with the world’s worst criminals wasn’t great either. 

“You’ve plateaued on this piece. I hear the same mistakes repeated over and over. It’s incredibly grating. You’ve stalled out. Stand up straight and play it again from the beginning,” the stern voice commanded. You pursed your lips and looked back at the sheet music. Unfortunately the voice was correct, you had stalled on the piece. After your contract with the Marines was over, you were finally going to follow your dreams. You wanted to secure an audition for a spot in Elegia’s prestigious music school, and you wanted this to be your selection. But something in the piece was eluding you and you hadn’t been able to crack it. 

“Again,” the voice commanded. Something about the voice made you want to comply, and really, what did you have to lose? There wasn’t anyone in the room with you and maybe the Voice had some insight. You slung your gun on your back and reset yourself. You poised your hands over the strings and centered yourself. Straightening your spine, you paid extra attention to your leg posture as you began the piece. You weren’t more than 10 measures in when you heard the voice again.

“Stop. Better, but not by much. Loosen your thumb, you’re gripping the neck of the violin like it’s your gun,” the Voice said. You looked down and found your thumb squeezing the neck of the violin tightly, just as he had said. The amateur mistake had you flushing even as you relaxed your fingers. 

“Well, I’m stressed,” you grumbled before loosening your thumb. You belatedly realized you didn’t need to explain yourself to a prisoner in Impel Down, but it had already left your mouth. 

“Irrelevant. Again, and stand up straight,” the Voice commanded. You squared your shoulders and stood in perfect posture. You took a deep breath and pulled the bow for the first note.

“For god’s sake, bend your knees slightly. Don’t lock them out like a child,” the Voice scolded, like he was exasperated with you.

“How can you tell-”

“Again. Stop wasting my time.”

You played over and over again for the Voice, beginning your playing only to be interrupted time and again. “Again,” the voice said as you raised your bow. Your arms were achy and heavy – you’d been practicing far harder than you had since you became a Marine. You took a deep breath and began again, this time getting a good fifteen measures in before the voice stopped you. By now your whole back was covered in a sheen of sweat. You hadn’t had such rigorous training since you had first started music, but you’d made such progress that you weren’t complaining. Well, not much, but some progress. And that was more than you’d had for some time.

“Do you know the title of the piece you’re butchering?” the Voice asked. He almost sounded like he was twirling a cigar in his hand, though that was only your overactive imagination at work. 

“Alabastan Nights,” you replied with a frown.

“Correct. Have you ever been to Alabasta?” the Voice asked.

“No, I’m from the North Blue,” you explained, looking over the dog eared pages of music you’d been poring over for so long.

“Then why did you pick it? Certainly not because you’ve mastered it already,” the Voice scoffed.

“I liked the theme,” you said, already fearing what the Voice would tell you next. 

“You liked the theme? Bah, no wonder you’re stalled. That’s part of your problem. You aren’t feeling the piece, you’re merely trying to perform it. It’s a task to you, you’re not letting the music flow through you. You have no imagination, no visualization, no passion,” the Voice drawled. The Voice’s words had tears pricking at your lashes, so you were glad he couldn’t see you from where you were. You hadn’t been reduced to so little since you were a child, first studying the violin. 

“Close your eyes,” the Voice commanded.

“OK, I am,” you agreed easily as you kept them open. Surely he couldn’t hear if you –

“Don’t lie to me. I don’t tolerate liars,” the Voice snapped at you. Your back instantly straightened as you nearly dropped your bow. The voice was commanding and clearly the speaker was used to be listened to. 

“Wh – how did you know?!” you asked, your mouth hanging open. Was this guy telepathic?

“Years of experience with unruly and disobedient…musicians. Now do as I say and close your eyes,” the voice ordered, though you thought you heard a hint of amusement in his tone. You begrudgingly shut your eyes since he could somehow tell if you weren’t.

“Imagine yourself in the endless swirling sands of Alabasta. The sun beats down on you from above, heating you from within even as it sets slowly in the West. With the sunset, the sands before you look like an ocean – vast, untameable, lethal, and breathtakingly beautiful all at once. You reach down to pick up a handful of warm sand, each grain unique and yet completely like the others as you roll them through your fingertips. Each is tiny and ultimately insignificant until they are pooled with infinite others of their own kind. The grains easily slip away, like water through a sieve, as indomitable as the air we breathe.” 

You were mesmerized, practically able to feel the grains between your fingertips. Was the voice capable of using some kind of magic on you? You continued to sit silently, waiting for the deep, rich voice to continue weaving the vision before you.

“The air cools rapidly, a chill goes down your spine. Soon you will be frozen to the core in this ruthless landscape. The night is not a reprieve from the day, far from it. But in this twilight, the sands of Alabasta seem ethereal. The sand turns a deep blue, in contrast to the endless hues of yellow of the day. You look over the endless mounds in wonder, in awe. The desert sands are home to some, enemy to most, yet strikingly beautiful to all. She shares her beauty with those who can withstand her cruelty, those who have earned her esteem. The sun sets and you are left under the stars, their multitude echoing the one beneath your feet. And there you stand, as meaningless as a grain of sand, yet somehow connected. Those are Alabastan nights,” the Voice said, drawing to a conclusion. You sat there silent, the imagery practically alive in your mind. 

“You have innate talent, though you need much more practice and polishing. Return tomorrow at the same time so we can continue your lessons,” the Voice commanded, as if you were a cadet. You were already nodding before remembering that violin wasn’t your primary job at Impel Down.

“Oh, uh. I have a late shift tomorrow, I don’t think I can come after that. I’ll be tired –”

“You’ll be here,” the Voice stated, like it was already a foregone conclusion. You swallowed and answered before you had time to think.

“Alright.”

You spent nearly all of the next day mulling over the events of the previous night. In fact, you were so distracted that a puzzle scorpion almost skewered you for not putting its food down fast enough. Who was behind the voice? Why were they helping you? What did they want in return? Whoever it was hadn’t asked for help or anything else in exchange for their services. Hell, he didn’t even ask your name, nor you for his. He had only given you (mostly) constructive criticism about your playing. 

And honestly?

He had helped you a lot. You hadn’t had time to practice yet today, but you could feel your growth playing the piece. But no one in Impel Down did something for nothing, and you didn’t want to owe anything to the Voice. On the other hand, you’d only have one shot at for an audition in Elegia, so you’d take all the help you could get. You mulled it over while putting out raw meat for the manticores, unable to make a decision.

You ambled into the breakroom during your fifteen, heading straight for the coffee bar. It was terrible, as was Marine standard, but regardless of the taste you’d need a ton of it to stay awake for your lesson tonight.

“Hiya,” you said, greeting your fellow Level 2 guards. For being a maximum security prison, most of the Marines stationed there were pretty chill. You were on good terms with a lot of people there, but some took the job to a whole new level. 

“What’s up?” Tiffany asked, sipping on a mug of coffee of her own.

“How’s it goin’?” Jerry chimed in, crunching on some fish crackers. 

“Hey Tiff, hey Jer,” you said, giving them a little wave. Your mind was still on the Voice as you poured yourself a cup of black coffee, blowing across the top to cool it down. The time for your lesson was approaching and you had to decide whether you’d be showing or not. You sat down at the table with Tiffany and Jerry, absently drinking your coffee while holding the stirrer off to the side.

“Question for you two – do you know if any of the prisoners play violin? Like, professional level?” you asked, your thoughts still on that goddamn voice. It was quiet for a moment before your attention snapped back to them as they burst out in laughter.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, pouting a little.

“We don’t ask their hobbies before torturing them,” Jerry said before laughing again.

“Yeah, I mean, I always wanna who’s gonna play the piano for me before releasing the basilisk,” Tiffany chimed in, her giggle turning into a guffaw. You frowned, stirring your coffee again. In retrospect, it was kind of a weird question but you didn’t know how else to gather the information. You didn’t work on Level 6, and you didn’t know any of the guards who did. It wasn’t like you could waltz into Magellan’s office and ask him to list off who he thought had the most classical music training.

“Whatever,” you griped, looking down into the brown liquid. “I’m gonna go finish my shift.” You took the mug with you as you left the room, you’d return it later. The time to meet with the Voice was getting closer, you really had to decide what to do.

About an hour later, you were plodding your way down the stairs, your violin case in your hand. Ultimately, the Voice had helped you a lot and it wasn’t like there was anyone else in Impel Down who you could ask. You were getting aid from one of the worst criminals in the world, so what? If it got you into Elegia Musical University, that’s all that mattered. You took a deep breath before entering the room.

“You’re late,” the Voice boomed from beyond the wall.

“Tch. I was working, like I told you,” you grumbled, setting down your case.

“Torturing prisoners on Level 4?” the Voice asked, curiosity in his tone.

“No, I work on level 2. I take care of the animals,” you replied easily, before cringing. You probably shouldn’t tell the prisoner anything about yourself, right? The voice was silent for a moment, as if he was adding that to his memory bank. Whatever, it wasn’t like he could escape or do anything with that information. 

“I see. Now, begin warming up. We have much work ahead of us,” the Voice snapped, making you jump. Even though you were the guard and the Voice belonged to a prisoner, you quickly did as the Voice commanded you. You had a fleeting thought to ask him his name, but instead began warming up. The less you knew about each other, the better, right?

Despite the intensity of the training that the Voice put you through over the next couple of hours, you listened to all the advice he had to tell you. Through his advice and criticism, you were finally able to play the piece better and break through the block that had been stopping you previously. By the time the few hours were up, you were drop dead tired, but felt more energized about your music than you had in years.

“Again. One last time,” the Voice commanded you, telling you to pick up where you’d left off on the development. “And slower,” the Voice chided you.

“Yeah, yeah. Practice makes perfect,” you complained quietly.

“Perfect practice makes perfect,” the Voice corrected you yet again. How on earth did he hear everything you said? You groaned and hung your head even as your fingers gripped your bow more tightly, preparing to play again.

“You need to practice more slowly for precision. Once you’ve mastered the piece, you can play at the correct tempo. Now with my voice to keep tempo,” he said before intoning for you like a human metronome.

Bum BUM bum BUM bum BUM

The sound was so smooth and resonant, you could have listened to him hum forever. It was the vocal equivalent of being wrapped in silk, the feeling skittering across your skin. You closed your eyes and tried to imagine what he looked like. He was probably taller than you, most of the prisoners were in Impel Down. He didn’t sound young, so he was at least in his late thirties. He had a loud commanding voice, and a huge bounty to go with it. Other than that, you allowed your mind to wander as you listened to the sonorous sound. 

“Enjoying yourself?” the Voice asked, breaking you from your reverie.

“Honestly, yeah,” you answered honestly. “You have a rich voice.” You had almost said he had a sexy voice, but saved yourself the embarrassment. The Voice laughed from beyond the wall, the sound hitting your soul even deeper than the humming had. Your mind supplied the ever helpful image of hearing that in a large canopy bed, as a mysterious figure approached…

“Be that as it may, I’m not doing this for my health. Play,” he instructed. You shook your head, the spell around you broken for now. You began again, this time imagining the sands of Alabasta, the freezing night, the vast dunes so familiar and so foreign. The music swept through you, pulling you along with the vision of the cooling sands, the stars shining bright overhead. Before you knew it, you were nearly done with the piece, the first time the Voice hadn’t interrupted you after a few measures. You concentrated and finished the piece, before lowering your bow. For once the Voice didn’t say anything immediately afterwards.

“Well? How was that?” you asked, already seeking the approval of the voice. Even if you thought you performed better, you wouldn’t feel satisfied without the voice giving you some amount of positive feedback.

“Barely acceptable,” the Voice said smoothly. It might have been scant praise but to you it was like being told you were getting the position of first violin in the Elegia orchestra. It sounded to you like whoever was behind the Voice was smirking, but that could have been your imagination.

“Really?! You think so?” you gushed, wanting to twirl in giddiness. You didn’t, of course, you were a Marine. But this kind of praise had your motor running. You’d always done better with praise than with criticism, but the latter was a necessary evil to improve your playing.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean. You’ve been a good little Marine, haven’t you? Obeying my orders,” the voice drawled. You wanted to preen before him, the words feeling like a long stroke of a hand down your bare back. 

“Yes, I’ve been good,” you agreed, thinking of all the advice you’d assimilated into your playing. Your music had never sounded so smooth before, so confident and dextrous.

“So you have. And good little Marines get rewarded with more lessons,” he continued. You smiled, wondering what the prisoner on the other side of the wall looked like. Maybe he wasn’t close to dying yet and was one of the sexier inmates. Your coworkers talked all the time about the best looking prisoners there, maybe he was one of them. He was down in level 6, so he was clearly dangerous…maybe dangerously sexy, based on that voice. 

All of a sudden it felt like a bucket of water poured over your head. What the actual fuck were you thinking?! You were strutting around like a cat in heat because some criminal on the other side of the wall told you that your playing was barely acceptable. Surely you had more respect for yourself than that, right? You needed to be firm, to set boundaries that you wouldn’t break. You weren’t going to be toyed with, no matter how helpful the sexy voice was.

“Be here tomorrow night. Same time,” the Voice stated.

“No, I need to practice on my own,” you said, wishing you sounded more assured than you were. The voice didn’t reply, the silence growing louder with each passing moment. Unlike the earlier silence of approval, this one held disappointment and displeasure. After about a minute, the weight was threatening to squash you completely, or at least you felt that way. Your people pleasing nature had you biting your lip, wishing the voice would say something. A few seconds later, you cracked. 

“Alright, I’ll be here.”

“Good girl.”

The next day you were really kicking yourself over agreeing to another lesson with the Voice. And just like the previous day, after your work was done, you found yourself back in the storage room, listening with rapt attention to everything the Voice told you to do. You preferred to work in smaller blocks of time than the two or so hours you were spending with the Voice, but it wasn’t like there was another option for meeting. Tomorrow you’d be strong and say no, but one more night couldn’t hurt, right?

“You’re improving,” the Voice commended you after your third practice was over. You felt heat rise in your cheeks – the Voice praising you yet again.

“Thank you. It’s a pleasant change to hear you telling me something nice,” you said meekly, glad the voice couldn’t see you from behind the wall.

“Good girls get praise,” the voice purred, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. You felt yourself hoping he would continue to extoll your virtues. He said nothing, but the encounter left you wanting more – more instruction and more praise from the Voice. And the Voice was helping you so greatly, you didn’t think you could tear yourself away at this point. Besides, there was only a little left to work on before you wouldn’t need him anymore. So you made your peace with your decision to go down to Level 6 the following night for just one more practice.

But one practice turned into two. Which turned into three. You kept promising yourself that each night would be the last, that there would be no more lessons, no more sexy voice after you mastered just this one small part. You would go down the stairs each night, mentally preparing yourself to tell the voice that you were done, that you weren’t coming down anymore, that you were going to do the rest of the work on your own. But each night you descended the stairs, the deep, sonorous voice practically calling you like a siren song. 

Which led you to the next night.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

By the end of three weeks, you were practically racing down the stairs during the wee hours of the morning to get to your next lesson. The Voice continued to help you in your playing, and your Alabastan Nights improved significantly. But secretly you found yourself looking forward to the “good girl” kind of compliments that the Voice sometimes bestowed on you. It was a little embarrassing but the potential to hear the Voice calling you “his good girl,” or how “you listened to him so well,” was enough to get you down to Level 6. And if you thought about the Voice when you weren’t with him, or touched yourself to thoughts of his voice, well, he didn’t need to know that.

Late one night, you were practicing the coda of the piece when the Voice suddenly interrupted you, causing you to stop mid draw of your bow. 

“Quiet. Stop playing and be silent,” the voice said in a sterner tone than usual. You deflated – had you really been playing that poorly?

“I didn’t think I was that bad –” you stopped talking as the voice shushed you.

“No. Something’s happening,” the voice said, sounding strained for a moment.

“Like, with my music or –”

“No. In the prison. Do not play your violin and be quiet,” he hissed at you. Your eyebrows hiked – what was going on? The Voice was harsh at times, but never rude.

“If you don’t want to hear me play, what’s the point of inviting me back –” your words were interrupted by the den den alarms going off. To your immense surprise, the pereperepere sound told you at once that there were unauthorized visitors breaking into the jail. Who would break in you didn’t know, but you did know you had to leave your violin and go to active duty.  Within seconds there were already explosions and Marines yelling, the fighting sounds drawing closer.

Your hands shook as you put away your violin – there hadn’t been a successful break out or in to Impel Down in all its years, so why it was happening now you didn’t know. Still, you weren’t great at combat, only passing the standard tests and certifications needed to work at the prison. You grabbed your gun and walked towards the door, readying yourself for the battle that would surely come.

“Stay here,” the voice commanded you.

“I have to –”

“You are a Level 2 guard in a Level 6 situation. I didn’t train you up for you to become cannon fodder. Stay put and do not make a sound,” he ordered again. There was a large commotion in the hallway, and frankly, you didn’t want to see who it was that had broken into the jail. It sounded like there weren’t any Marines as backup either, you’d be all alone against whoever was crazy enough to willingly enter Impel Down. Sweat beaded on your brow – you were royally fucked.

“Do you really have that many lives to spare?!” you heard a new voice yell outside the room.

“If I give up now, I’m gonna regret it!” a higher voice said. There was a moment of silence before your Voice interrupted.

“But first of all, how can you get off this floor?” the Voice drawled with the same assurance that you’d heard before. The Voice interacted with two others for some time, going back and forth between the three of them. The other people were farther away and your Voice had moved away from you to talk to them. You couldn’t really make out what anyone was saying, only general murmur from the three voices. After a few moments, your Voice returned to the spot you were familiar with, and you were now clearly able to hear him where you had hunkered down.

“Stay here. I’m going to partially block the door so it looks like you were bombarded. No one will think to look inside for a lone Marine. Stay inside and silent until the fighting is over. If you do what I say you’ll be safe,” the voice urged you quietly.

“OK,” you whispered, afraid to say anything else. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode. Based on the sounds you were hearing outside the storage room, that might not be far from what ended up happening to you.

“Goodbye for now,” the Voice said, almost sounding regretful. “I will find you again, my little violinist. I’m not done teaching you.”

Four months later

You were on your fourth run through of the first movement, the notes swimming on the page in front of your eyes. Defeated, you let your bow hang to the side as you pushed the button on the side of your snail, stopping the recording. Sighing heavily, you quickly deleted it, ashamed of how terrible you sounded. 

Ever since the Voice left you, you felt like something vital was missing in your performances. You incorporated everything he had told you, but it just wasn’t the same without the Voice listening. You had a few (well, a lot) daydreams about him, imagining that he would come back and find you like he said he would, but you didn’t actually think that would happen. He was an escaped notorious convict and you were a low level, nothing Marine stationed on some nowhere island out in the middle of the Grand Line. Someone would have to do digging to find you, and frankly, you didn’t think you were worth it.

After the disaster in Impel Down, you and all the remaining guards had been transferred to new bases across the Grand Line. You didn’t care all that much – to you one base was much like the rest. All you needed was a small private room to practice and enough time to prepare for your audition. You were one of only three Marines on the small, peaceful island, and that suited you just fine.

You took a deep breath, trying to mentally go over everything the Voice had taught you. Reaching back to the snail, you pushed the record button before letting out the breath you were holding. Your bow was drawn, your shoulders were squared and you…

Squeaked as you felt something large, cold and metallic pressed against your back through your thin shirt. 

“Slipping back into bad habits without me, hm?” a deep, rich voice intoned. Your breath caught, it was the Voice. Were you hallucinating? Was this complete delusion? A large, calloused hand settled across your neck as the metal pressed against the middle of your back. Fingers with warm metal rings collared your throat easily, though they exerted no pressure. You swallowed thickly, was this how you were going to die? Did he have a gun pointed at you?

“Ah, ah. Maintain proper posture. We’ve talked about this many times,” the Voice chided, pushing you into a completely upright position. You wished you could turn around and face him, but with the metal at your back and his hand around your neck you felt trapped like a little rabbit. Even after you were in place to play, the Voice didn’t remove his hand from across your throat. Instead he gently drummed his fingers lazily along the column of your carotid. 

“I’ve tried to imagine what you look like many times, my little violinist. You’re even lovelier than I expected,” he said, as the scent of tobacco and cardamom hit your nose. Whoever was behind you was large, his body towering over yours from behind. You didn’t have to wonder what he had pressed against your back as he removed it from behind you and set the gleaming metal on your shoulder. Glancing down, you saw an enormous golden hook, the sharp tip lustrous in the early evening light. But the only prisoner in Impel Down that you knew had a hook was…

“Sir Crocodile,” you whispered. Sir Crocodile was an extremely powerful, notorious pirate who was said to have recently partnered with Dracule Mihawk after the dissolution of the Warlord program. Your legs threatened to give out – why had you played with fire for so long?

“Who else?” he asked, his thumb now stroking your jaw gently. Goosebumps spread over your arms as you slowly looked up at him. You saw a face you’d only ever seen on wanted posters – that handsome smirk towering above you now.

“Put away your violin. Our ship is leaving soon,” Crocodile ordered you, as if he was commanding you to play a section over again like at the prison. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you panicked. But really, what were you going to do? Sir Crocodile had a bounty in the billions, and you barely passed basic training. You were going to have to figure out what he wanted and fast. You teetered a little before Crocodile pressed you with a little more force against his chest. He was broad and well muscled, his body engulfing your own. 

“You’re not done with your lessons yet.”

Toji looked through the window, trying to catch sight of you. Even dumbfuck high school kids would keep you with them, they probably weren’t stupid enough to leave you alone somewhere. He assumed you were taken as bait or a bargaining chip, some way to get to him. There was no way they had anything against you, right? Toji didn’t think anyone would know anything about you outside the clan, he doubted if they even knew you were married. And besides, Megumi said that Gojo hadn’t hurt you, just taken you away. If Toji found more bruises on your skin, well, that healer brat would have a lot more work ahead of her.

Megumi had also said something about you using cursed energy, though the kid hadn’t been able to explain anything beyond something about a string and an explosion. Toji wondered what your power was, a small amount of pride blooming in his chest. You were probably strong as fuck, you just needed time to develop whatever it was. No fucking wonder you got your technique out while away from the clan. It was just one more reason to leave that shithole and never look back.

From the trees, Toji heard the voices of that healer girl, and that punk from the previous day. He listened closely as the two argued in a calm manner. He listened for (but didn’t hear) a third voice chiming in. Shifting around, Toji spotted someone sitting on the floor, listening in with their head bowed.

There you were.

Toji already knew you weren’t wearing the clothes he’d given you yesterday. He’d recovered your bag, money, and his kid after a call from Shiu. You looked nice in the new stuff, he thought. It had been a trip to give you those old clothes. He hadn’t gone into that box since…well, since she died. Never had a reason to until now. Your new stuff suited you better anyway, made you look all pretty. Not that it was important, but he did think you looked way better out of those ugly ass clothes Naoya made you wear. 

Toji mentally shook himself, he needed to remain focused if he wanted to get you out of there. You didn’t have any new bruises or marks and didn’t seem overly distressed, though you were a fuckin’ expert at hiding shit like that. No, you seemed mildly interested in what they were discussing, though of course you didn’t give your opinion. 

Now that Gojo was gone it was the time to strike. Fewer sorcerers meant fewer headaches, even if Geto hadn’t been an issue yesterday. The healer herself didn’t look like a fighter, so the window of opportunity was on him. Toji easily jumped to the window, the hilt of the Split Sword Katana out of the mouth of the worm just in case. The punk sorcerer’s eyes snapped to him first, his eyes wide with fright. Toji happily noted the scars from yesterday were still prominent on his chest, red and puckered like they’d just healed over.

“Hey. Came to pick you up,” Toji said with a smirk, extending his hand to you. Your eyes were locked on him as if he was some kind of savior. 

“You! What are you doing here?! Within the barriers of Jujutsu High?!” Geto yelled, sending some flyhead curse out the other window in the room. Toji watched it, but decided against killing it right now, he had more important matters to deal with. The healer chick was frozen in place, not doing or saying anything. You, on the other hand, were sitting with your mouth agape, like you couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Yeah, guess so. Didn’t even have to show my student ID or nothin’,” Toji said, his grin widening. He fucking loved turning sorcerers on their heads. Fuckin’ arrogant bastards finally facing someone who could stand up to them. 

“You can’t be here!” the kid yelled, holding out his hand as if readying himself for a fight.

“Why not? Or are you ready for round two?” Toji asked, stepping down off the windowsill into the shitty bedroom. The kid paled even as he clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching in anger. If kicking Geto’s ass had been easy the night before, killing him now would be child’s play. The kid was barely healed and still laying in bed, practically a sitting duck. It wouldn’t be interesting or fun, but he’d do it if he had to. Hell, Megumi could probably kill this asshole right now.

“How could you get in – we didn’t hurt her!” the healer blurted out, getting off the bed. At least the chick was smart enough to insert herself between you and Toji. She had her arm out in front of her as if to protect you from him. Toji barked out a laugh – they had kidnapped you, not the other way around. You stood up, still mesmerized by his appearance.

“T-toji, I didn’t think – you shouldn’t have come for me,” you stammered even as you took a hesitant step towards him.  “I can’t believe you came for me,” you repeated, like he’d done something grand. Toji grimaced a little, this was really the bare minimum. If the clan wasn’t so shitty, someone else would have come to get you when they heard you’d been taken. 

“ ‘Course I did,” Toji replied as you took another step towards him. He didn’t mention how fucking furious he’d been about your abduction, how fast he’d run to the high school once he heard all the details from Shiu. Toji didn’t usually feel the need to run places but he needed to exercise off some of his anger and cool his head before he confronted anyone. You were extending your hand towards him, your fingertips nearly reaching his own when Toji shifted, grabbing your upper arms to move you behind him.

“I knew you’d show,” Gojo said with glee, the door to the room slamming open with a loud noise. You jumped and turned to face where the sound had come from, your head already ducked from the clattering door. Holy fuck this kid was annoying, Toji thought, already reassessing the situation. And that fucking flyhead was buzzing around Gojo’s head before Geto recalled it or reabsorbed it or whatever the fuck he did. Shoulda killed it when he had the chance, Toji thought, annoyed he had misjudged. The curse had obviously alerted Gojo to his presence, making Toji roll his eyes. Sorcerers were always doing too much.

Toji finally got a good, up close look at Gojo Satoru. Toji was aware of what the brat looked like – everyone knew about his special white hair and bullshit eyes. Toji had even seen the brat when he was a child, seeking him out to check out what was so special about the goddamn Gojo heir. The kid had noticed him and locked eyes before looking away, spooking Toji so badly he’d started gathering weapons that bypassed the Gojo clan’s hereditary limitless technique. Right now he was glad he did, they were about to come in handy.

“I don’t know how you got in here, but goddamn I’m glad you did,” Gojo said, cracking his knuckles. Toji almost laughed – there was no way this kid was good enough to beat him at hand to hand. Based on what he’d seen the previous night with the Geto brat, he’d kick this kid’s ass six ways to Sunday if they were fighting without Cursed Energy. 

Toji had no doubt Gojo’s cursed techniques were strong, sure, whatever. But no one beat Fushiguro when it came to real fighting. Toji knew techniques could do damage, it wasn’t that he underestimated any sorcerer. Hell, he’d be dead if he did. But techniques were bullshit unless you had the physical strength to keep up or defeat someone like him in close combat. And so far, no one had. 

“Yeah, I’d hate to disappoint," Toji replied, shifting his weight from one leg to another. The chances of leaving without any confrontation were zero at this point so he might as well enjoy it. You looked scared shitless but Toji wasn’t particularly worried. Either way, you were going to get out of here alive. Gojo walked until he stood directly in front of Toji, cutting off his access to the door. Your eyes were bouncing between him and Gojo, your hands worrying together in front of you. The kid was just as tall as Toji, looking him in the eyes.

“Fight me,” Gojo declared, lowering his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. The kid looked over zealous, like he had something on the line. Some kind of emotion was firing in him for reasons Toji neither knew nor cared. But it did make the kid more volatile, more likely to do stupid shit. That could work either for or against Toji, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Nah. Just want my woman,” Toji answered with a shrug. Your eyebrows hiked slightly at his words, but he hadn’t really meant it in that way. Yeah, it felt good to say it but you weren’t really his woman. 

“Satoru, you don’t have to do this –” Geto interrupted, trying to get out of bed. Gojo looked at Geto, his bright eyes flashing as he removed his sunglasses completely.

“I do, Suguru. I do,” Gojo said as laughed cruelly, his eyes focusing on you. Toji’s eyes narrowed – the kid better not fucking touch you again. Toji’s hand rested on his hip as he let the kid speak, though he’d be happy to run the kid through with his sword if he so much as reached for you. 

“Well that’s too bad. You’re stuck here,” he said, fanning his hands out to the side. Toji raised an eyebrow – what the fuck was the kid on about?

“Maybe you can get in and out of Jujutsu High, but Usagi can’t,” Gojo said triumphantly, like he’d won the goddamn fight already. 

“Who the fuck is Usagi?” Toji asked, looking at the healer. Was that her name? Toji could have sworn Shiu said something else…

“Not me, you dumbass! Her!” the chick yelled, pointing back at you. Toji grunted as a small smile came to his lips.

“Heh. Kinda fits,” he said, making you flush.

“The barriers around the school prevent her from leaving unless an S Grade sorcerer allows her to,” Gojo explained, an ugly smile appearing on his face. Toji’s expression shuttered – he hadn’t thought about getting you out, only about himself. That was a complication he hadn’t planned on and something he’d have to deal with. He wanted to kick his own ass for not thinking about something like that, but to be fair, he’d never had to evacuate anyone before. Live and learn.

“SO FUCKING FIGHT ME!” Gojo repeated, his eyes maniacal. What the hell was his problem?  Toji allowed Gojo to grab the front of his shirt and pull it forward. If the kid wanted to throw hands, that was fine by Toji. He’d let the brat think he had the upper hand until they actually went at it.

“Nah. I only kill for money, kid,” Toji replied, slapping Gojo’s hands away. It was partially true, but Toji needed time to think about how to get you out from inside the barrier. 

“Pathetic. But if that’s what you need, I can do that too,” Gojo said, taking a step forward. “Name your price.” Toji narrowed his eyes – he knew the Gojo clan was rich, but the kid wouldn’t be able to pay the kind of prices Toji wanted. If he was going to kill the strongest Sorcerer in the world, he wanted to be paid well for it. 

“90 million yen,” Toji called out, calling the kid’s bluff. He tossed out a huge number, sure that things would change from here. Maybe the kid would realize Toji wasn’t interested in fighting and just wanted to leave with you. Besides, there was no way the kid had access to that kind of money, not just for some one off fight –

“Alright. 90 million yen. Fight to the death. Outside the gates,” Gojo said, his grin widening with every word he said.

“Fine by me,” Toji said casually, like Gojo had invited him to tea. 

“Toji, no. Please don’t do this –” you said, putting your warm hand on his arm. Toji grinned back at you, resisting the urge to flex his bicep under your hand. There wasn’t a way out without a fight, and now he would be getting 90 million yen out of the deal. Your hand dropped off his arm, though Toji could still feel the warmth from where you had touched him. Maybe the kid was right and he was pathetic, he had almost got hard from your touch on his arm.

“Let’s get this shit over with,” Toji said, starting to stretch. He paused for a moment, thinking about what would happen if he lost. Every fight was a gamble, no matter how slim or wide the odds of losing were. He was sure of himself and his own abilities, but he wasn’t sure he knew everything about the Gojo brat. If the kid had activated his Domain Expansion or had a new technique, Toji would have to work around that. He thought for a moment before speaking again.

“Usagi goes free either way,” Toji stipulated. Now that he said it, he did like the nickname. It was cute and sweet, kinda like you. Megumi would like it too, he’d have to tell him later.

“Yeah, whatever. She can go back to the Zen’in,” Gojo said with a wave of his hand. Toji frowned – that wouldn’t work either. You needed to be kept from that stupid asswipe Naoya even if he was dead. 

“No. If I die, don’t send her back there. You’ll get her a divorce and take her in here. And my kid. Keep ‘em at the school, give her a job or something. He’s gonna be a sorcerer,” Toji said, nodding. You couldn’t go back to Naoya, and if Toji wasn’t around to protect you he’d have to rely on stupid Gojo to keep you and Gooms safe. It was annoying, but Toji didn’t plan on losing. 

“That’s a lot of bullshit for me to go through,” Gojo gritted out, his fingers twitching. 

“You’re the one who wants to fight. And it’s only if I die. Otherwise I just get your money,” Toji said with a shrug. You inched closer to him, though you didn’t touch him. Toji wished you would, even if just once.

“Fine – Shoko, write this up,” Gojo commanded.

“Again, you’re not my boss,” Shoko grumbled even as she got off the bed and took out a pen and paper from Geto’s desk. She spent a moment quickly scribbling on the paper before handing it to Gojo. Gojo scanned it briefly, grunting when he finished. The healer passed him a pen, and he signed it without a second glance.

“Is this good?” Gojo asked disdainfully, shoving the paper towards Toji. He skimmed the contents – 90 million yen, you and Megumi staying with Gojo at the stupid school if the brat killed him, no fault on either side…

“Yeah, looks good to me,” Toji confirmed, signing it with the pen the chick handed to him.

“Satoru –” Geto said, holding out his hand. Gojo gave the other sorcerer a real smile, one full of love and sweetness. Toji recognized it from times when he’d given the same to his dead wife. Explained why the kid wanted to fight him so bad, he guessed. Too bad the kid wasn’t gonna make it another day. The jujutsu world was tough, the kid should know every fight was a fight to the death, with or without pay. 

“Money comes to me if Gojo dies, everything else goes into effect if I die,” Toji said, handing the paper to you. Your mouth hung open as you took it, your eyes searching Toji’s face as if he was going to reveal that everything was just a big joke. Toji gave you an easy grin, wishing he could cup your cheek and pull you in for a kiss. Wait, what? He ignored his own impulse as you folded the paper and put it in your pocket.

“When you die,” Gojo said in agreement, his smile wicked and wild. Toji grinned back, finally allowing his excitement to permeate his looks. Toji loved a high stakes fight and now with 90 mill on the line he was looking forward to it. Gojo’s smile faltered a little as Toji showed his own enthusiasm for the fight, flashing his canines. 

“Let’s find out, punk.”

Your POV

Toji and Gojo had left a few minutes earlier, after deciding to have their fight outside the gates of the school. Everything had happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to object to anything they were saying. Not that you would have, you followed whatever Toji told you to do. Even so, you wished there had been something you could have done to prevent their fight. Toji hadn’t seemed worried at all as he left from the window faster than you could blink. 

You felt like you were choking with all the tension in the room. You, Shoko, and Geto sat in silence, listening to the deafening booms of destruction nearby. Shoko was chain smoking cigarettes while Geto stared off out the window. You had no doubt that if he had been feeling better, he would have wanted to help Gojo in the fight against Toji. 

Something cold and hard had settled on your chest when Gojo had revealed you couldn’t leave the school. It was like jujutsu society had you on a leash – and a short one at that. Just like Naoya had stopped you from leaving the compound with his word, Gojo had caged you within the barriers of Jujutsu High. Logically, you knew it wasn’t the same. Gojo wasn’t your husband and was using you to get to Toji – but the feelings of shame and helplessness that welled up inside you were identical. 

“Do you think they’ll really fight to the death?” Shoko asked Geto, lighting another cigarette between white fingers. Geto was looking similarly wan, his face pale as his fingers idly rubbed the x shaped scar across his chest. 

“Yes,” Geto replied without looking at her, his mind elsewhere. Suddenly, his eyes were locked on you. You were back to sitting on the floor as the two teens lounged on the bed, looking down at you.

“Can you see the future?” Geto asked, giving you his full attention. He hadn’t really been interested in you up until this point, and you hoped he wouldn’t expect too much of you moving forward.

“No, not really,” you hedged, trying to avoid the topic.

“What do you mean not really? Can you or not?” Geto asked, flicking his hair over his shoulder. You felt like you were under a spotlight, the pressure suddenly cooking you alive.

“Oh, uh. I sometimes get pings –”

“What’s that?” Shoko interrupted, blowing smoke out her nose. 

“Oh, um. It’s like peeks into a potential future, I guess? They only represent one outcome though, they’re not guaranteed,” you tried to explain, spreading out your hands weakly. 

“Do it now,” Geto ordered harshly. You shivered – in the commotion with Toji and Gojo you’d forgotten that Geto was also an S class sorcerer in his own right. You pressed your lips together, trying to center yourself. He didn’t come from a clan, but Geto had the air of authority down. 

“I don’t  – I can’t. It doesn’t work like that. I get them, but I don’t command them. They just come to me,” you explained, wishing that they’d understand your situation a little better. 

“Use cursed energy to force one,” Geto demanded, skewering you with a look. If you had known how to do that, you would have. Instead, you looked at Shoko, but her eyes were flat. Maybe you’d worn out your welcome with her too. 

“I don’t know how –”

“YOU DO!” Geto said, raising his voice at you. He threw off the covers, standing up and getting out of bed for the first time. He walked over to you with purpose, his eyes flashing with anger. “USE YOUR TECHNIQUE!” he commanded, his finger pointing in your face. Your eyebrows pinched in the middle as your breaths came in fast. You wrung your hands together, wishing there was someone to help you, or some way to make Geto understand. 

This was all your fault, you were the reason that Geto was mad, you were the reason there was a fight, you were the reason that Toji was here, you were the reason Megumi was alone, you were the reason things were wrong, you were the reason that…

“Come on, Geto. She doesn’t know how, she said that  a million times –” Shoko finally interrupted on your behalf.

“What a waste of cursed energy. It’s her fault –”

“It isn’t! It’s Gojo’s!” Shoko said, though her eyes turned to you as well. 

“I can – I can try,” you said in a small voice. Geto crossed his arms over his chest, watching you closely as disdain oozed through every pore. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Until today, you’d never even known you had access to cursed energy, much less used any. 

You tried mentally letting go of what you’d been dealing with, pushing everything out of your mind until it was completely silent. Gojo, Geto, Toji, Megumi, even brief thoughts of Naoya were all pushed outside your mind. Instead, you thought of yourself as sitting in a completely white room, at peace and calm. 

“She’s gathering cursed –”

“Shhhh. Let her concentrate –”

You pushed the sounds of Shoko and Geto’s voices out of your room and imagined yourself tuning into the rhythm of the universe. You imagined yourself as a conduit, a medium for information to flow through you. You weren’t quite sure how to focus the pings on what was happening now, so you tried to think about the fight that was surely happening. The process was clunky, but you felt like you were getting somewhere. Maybe after this was over you could work on your technique and refine it but for now this would have to do.

You sat there, trying to force a ping to come to you even as you heard deafening booms outside. And to your surprise, a ping came to your mind after a few minutes. The vision was intense and far stronger than anything you’d ever experienced before. Normal pings were a still image, and this felt like a short scene. It felt like being deluged with information, all dumped into your mind in a single second. You almost felt like you were being crushed under the weight of the information, so much coming in that you could barely operate. If you’d been getting pings before, now you were getting a full vision, and you weren’t sure if your mind could handle it. 

You struggled to make sense of what you were seeing in the future and recoiled from the sights – destruction, evil, cursed energy, blood, death, so much death. You tried to receive the information as neutrally as you could, in order to retain every detail in your mind’s eye. Finally, it ended and you slumped over, your hands resting on the ground as you breathed heavily. You were drained, just like you had been when you’d used your technique earlier that day. 

You couldn’t understand what you’d seen, slowly opening your eyes to reveal yourself back in the same room. Geto hissed in a breath as he stood over you. You flinched as he raised his hand, but he only pushed it back through his long hair. 

“What’s going to happen to Gojo?” Geto said as he squatted down in front of you, his young face looking so tired and weary you almost felt bad for him.

“I don’t know,” you said truthfully, as sweat dripped down your back.

You jumped again as the door banged open, with two even younger teens standing outside. How many sorcerers were at the school?

“Geto! Shoko! Gojo is fighting someone outside the gates!” the taller of the two yelled, pushing his long bangs back from his face. He was serious and thin, though he seemed to be well groomed. There was a shorter, brown haired boy with him, his face set into a frown. Your shoulders hunched in  even more, as if to make yourself smaller. You were already uncomfortable with the two students in the room, and now their numbers had doubled. The blond’s eyes flicked to you and he stood upright.

“Oh. I didn’t see you there. I apologize for yelling. I am Kento Nanami,” the blond said respectfully, bowing at the waist. You blinked, his sudden politeness surprising you.

“This is Yu Haibara,” he continued, introducing the other boy. 

“Hi,” Haibara said, giving you a short bow and a bright smile. “But Geto, Gojo is –”

“We know,” Geto said, closing his eyes. He shuffled back towards the bed and extended a hand towards Shoko, who put her cigarette between his fingers. “He’s fighting the Sorcerer Assassin.”

“Wh- why would he do that?” Nanami exclaimed, throwing his hand to the side. Geto didn’t answer, just puffed on the cigarette before handing it back to Shoko. 

“Ask him when he’s done. It’s foolishness,” Geto said coldly, perhaps trying to hide his emotions from the younger students.

“Well, you can’t ask him anything,” a gravelly voice said from beyond the door. Your head whipped to see Toji bathed in the early evening light. You quickly scanned him, looking for missing limbs or appendages, but he appeared to be fine apart from being covered in blood. Both Toji and his worm were smiling as it swallowed the hilt of a sword. 

“Toji –” you said, already crossing the room to get closer to him. 

“Hey. We can get out of here after I get my money,”  was all Toji said, like he was already bored of being at the school. He wasn’t even breathing heavily – just how strong was Toji? And if Toji was here, did that mean…?

“Where’s G-gojo?” Geto asked, choking on his words as he balled his fists. Shoko’s mouth hung open, her cigarette dangling from her lips. Toji’s grin split his face wide as he pushed his hair off his face. He looked every bit the assassin the students called him as he sauntered into the room, like a tiger stalking through the grass. You had the impression that Toji could have killed everyone in the room in seconds if he felt like it. 

“Yeah like I said, you can’t ask him anything. Gojo’s dead.”

More notes: I made up some stuff about the JJK high barriers, I couldn’t find that much about those barriers keeping people in but I think it’s possible based on what we know. Also I gave Toji a raise because I can and want to give him more money. Forgive Nanami for yelling and getting excited, he’s just a baby. Also sorry if her ct is corny idk man You can imagine their canon fight outside the gates minus the first stabbing. Gojo's only *mostly* dead. I'm not killing off any pookies.

Once you awoke from your long sleep after Kyuka, Marco was sitting at his desk and working like usual. He glanced over at you and did his almost-smile but quickly went back to what he was doing before. It was a little unusual, but you’d seen him like this before when he was really busy with his patients. 

“Good morning, Marco,” you said, sitting up in bed. Gods, you would miss this bed once you went back to Laughtale. If only there was a way to bring it with you, you thought wistfully as you ran your palm over its cool, squishy surface. This was your first test of what he’d said the previous day – Marco claimed that you could call him by his first name but you had yet to actually do it. Marco merely looked at you for a moment with a calm smile before turning his attention back to the screen in front of him.

“It’s not morning yoi. That’s a human saying. But good morning to you too,” Marco replied easily. “I’m going to be heading into the lab soon. Would you like to join me or would you rather do something else?” Marco’s jaw was set tightly as he spoke to you without breaking eye contact with his screen. 

Your brow furrowed – what the hell was going on?

“I’m not on my period,” you said, already suspicious of his intentions.

“I am aware. Your menstruation cycle is about 28 Eurt days long, you are not due yet yoi,” he continued. Marco closed the screen he was looking at and walked towards the bed and sat down at the edge, perching far from you. He didn’t even reach out to touch you, unlike every other time you’d woken before. His fingers twitched slightly, but he kept them resting on his thighs. He didn’t even want to touch your face?

“Then why are you letting me choose what I want to do? You never let me pick stuff like that, only when I’m on my period,” you asked, stretching out. Marco looked you in the eyes, his expression serious, like he’d set his intentions.

“I took what you said on Kyuka to heart. I wish to make you more comfortable being with me, and I want to listen to your opinions more frequently. You are correct, I have been somewhat inconsistent in my treatment of you and I would like to amend that. I also agree that I have been treating you at a level incompatible with your intelligence and ability for independent action1,” Marco replied. His mouth twisted a little at the end, like he’d eaten something sour. But it was gone faster after you blinked and replaced with the same placid smile as before. You blinked – this was far from the response you had been expecting. 

“Alright. In that case I want…to go see Thatch in the kitchens,” you said, testing the boundaries of your newfound freedom. In truth, you didn’t want to stay in the room or go with Marco. What you really needed was time alone in other parts of the ship so you could familiarize yourself before your escape. So it would be a good time to find out if Marco was as lenient as he was saying or if it was all an act. Marco frowned as he listened to you. It wasn’t punishable to ask for things, right?

“That was not one of the options yoi. You can choose to either stay here or – I’m sorry, Luna. Give me a moment,” Marco said as he opened an incoming message. He scanned the contents briefly before dismissing it faster than you could read. His frown had deepened after reading whatever it said. Your gut twisted – Marco was definitely not letting you leave his sight after whatever that was. You clicked a few buttons on your own to avoid eye contact with Marco in case this tipped his mood.

“I suppose you could go to the kitchens,” Marco gritted out, before taking a deep breath. Your eyes widened as your confusion grew. “Let me find out if Thatch is free right now, sometimes their division is quite busy –”

“He says he’s not busy and that he has something – what’s this word?” you asked, showing the quick reply you’d already gotten from Thatch. Marco’s frown deepened yet again, making your heart skitter in nervousness. Marco smoothed out his features as he read Thatch’s message over your shoulder. 

“How are you able to message Thatch?” he asked, looking over the message. He sounded annoyed but looking at his face, you didn’t see the normal furrowed brow that accompanied that tone. It made you a little on edge, but so far nothing bad had happened. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t do it. I can’t change anything on my controller,” you said, extending your arm for Marco to see. You had opened your messaging center the previous night to send Marco the picture you’d taken and had seen that you were now able to message all the Commanders on the ship. You didn’t really think anything of it as you sent the picture to Marco but it was a little strange. Marco tapped a few buttons, searching through your screens quickly. He scanned through your brief messages with Thatch before dismissing the screens.

“That word is ‘special.’ Thatch is inviting you to try novel food in the kitchens yoi,” Marco said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Is that safe?” you asked, chewing on a nail. For as much of a dickhead as Marco was to you, you did trust that he knew what it took to keep you from dying.

“Yes. Thatch knows what you can and cannot eat. And I suspect he has several Eurt delicacies waiting for you yoi,” Marco supplied, rolling his eyes.

“Really?” you asked, smiling as you heard the news.

“Really. He’s been planning this for some time, he talks about it during our Commander meetings. I will walk you down to the kitchens –” Marco paused as his controller pinged again. His eyes darkened as he dismissed the short message.

“I will walk you down to the kitchens. When you are done, you may return to me in the lab without an escort,” Marco said harshly. Your shoulders bunched up around your ears as you wondered why Marco was angry with you. It was like he was talking to someone else, but there wasn’t anyone else in the room. Marco’s face softened before he began talking again, this time more quietly. His hallux stroked your cheek as he spoke once more, his touch after so many days together. After a moment, his hand dropped from your face quickly, almost like he’d been burned.

“You have a map on your controller, you can use that to find your way back to the lab. Moreover, if you are lost or scared, call for me immediately. I can always find you yoi,” Marco said, crossing his arms once more. You nodded, mollified that Marco apparently wasn’t mad at you. You had no explanation for why he was acting this way, but you weren’t going to ask and ruin it now. Marco had just given you permission to walk the ship by yourself, something you could have only dreamed of a few days prior. To be honest, you were a little impressed with Marco – he finally seemed to have listened to your needs. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible as you had originally thought. 

Marco stood up and crossed the room back over to his desk. He opened a drawer and removed something pink and small, about the size of your palm.

“But before you go, I’d like you to orgasm yoi,” Marco said, walking back towards you. Now it was your turn to frown. Of course Marco would make you do something for him before he’d do something for you. There was no getting without giving – at least not with Marco. But to your surprise, Marco unfurled your fingers and put the small tool in your hand. You were momentarily surprised as you began examining the item. 

“What’s this?” you had asked, looking over the small object. It looked like a stylized version of the rose that Vista had given you, but only the flower part. There was a small opening at the top, though you couldn’t understand what it was for. Its rubbery texture was somewhat similar to plastics you’d touched on Lafftale but not exactly. What on Eurt was this for?

“For your daily orgasm. Press the button on the side there to turn it on,” Marco explained. You quirked your eyebrow as you complied. You nearly dropped it as the small item began buzzing in your hand, the vibrations constant. 

“How will this help me?” you asked, completely perplexed, and not just about the tool he’d given you. Wasn’t Marco going to give you an orgasm himself? He’d always enjoyed the process thus far, so what had changed? Had he really listened to you on Kyuka? The evidence was stacking in his favor, his behavior finally matching his words.

“I trust you can figure that out yourself yoi. I’ve read that female humans enjoy this kind of toy,” Marco said enigmatically as he walked towards the door. 

“Let me know when you are done and I will return,” Marco said, putting his hand on the panel to open the door. Now you were really confused.

“You aren’t going to do it for me? You aren’t going to watch?” you asked, suddenly unsure. There must be some kind of trick happening, you thought, and you didn’t want to get in any kind of trouble. Was he testing you? Did he want you to ask for him to stay? What did Marco want from you?

“No. You said you wanted increased independence. I am giving you what you asked for yoi,” Marco said with a tight smile. “I will return when your orgasm is complete and your vitals stabilize. At that time I will bring you to visit Thatch and the Fourth Division,” Marco said, leaving through the opened door. Your mouth hung open as you watched the door shut silently as you were left alone.

What. The. Fuck.

Marco POV

Marco calling you his mate changed absolutely nothing about how Marco felt about you.

Marco hadn’t meant to say it out loud, it had simply slipped from his lips. However, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it or be mad at himself. The more he thought about it, the more he accepted the idea of calling you his mate. It wasn’t like he was going to run into any other Phoenix soon – he hadn’t met another in all his years of travel – and his body already considered you his. You were going to be staying with him and the Whitebeard Pirates either way. So really, what did it matter if he called you his mate? It wouldn’t effectively change anything between you and he found comfort in the title. 

Shortly after you’d come back from the trip to Kyuka, you’d fallen asleep for your long stretch. Based on how quiet you were on the way back, and the way you’d leaned your head on his shoulder without prompting, Marco suspected you would need a longer rest than usual. Your endurance was still below standard for humans of your age, which was something he’d have to work with you on. Once back in his quarters, Marco laid down with you for a cozy few hours of rest. You were warm and sweet, your breath fanning softly over his skin. He wished he could live in this moment forever, with you safe in his arms, but he knew that was only a dream.

Unfortunately, after a few hours he had an important meeting called by Izou. His brother had called for him to meet in his quarters as soon as Marco was able. Marco had been in his brother’s room innumerable times before and found the atmosphere calming and serene. Even though their rooms were built identically, the ways in which they had designed them were unique. As he entered Izou was relaxing on top of a chaise lounge, offering Marco a cup of tea before starting.

“Did you enjoy your trip to Kyuka?” Izou asked as Marco sat down on a chair opposite his brother. As he sat, the familiar scent of jasmine and cedar wafted to his nose. 

“We’ve been there many times, it was the same as all the others yoi,” Marco replied, accepting the tea.

“No need to hoard your feelings. You know I meant if you enjoyed your trip with Luna, but I won’t pry,” Izou said with a smirk.  Marco was already on edge about the meeting – they had to somehow push you into your plans of escape. Marco had a looming feeling of danger, a sense that the humans on Lafftale were in acute distress and needed help immediately and they couldn’t wait much longer.

It was a tricky situation – they needed you to think you were escaping and fully in charge of your decisions while also ensuring your safety. It was unthinkable to let you into space unguarded and alone; that would never be happening. However, you had to believe you had gotten the better of them in order to feel confident enough to make your way back to Lafftale. It was a complicated plan, but ultimately the only one that Izou and Marco felt would guide them to the human colony.  

“We are going to discuss measures you will not like,” Izou said bluntly, setting down his tea. Marco inclined his head, ready to listen.

“I understand the nature of the meeting. It is not about what I like or dislike, we need Luna to escape so that we can follow her yoi,” Marco agreed. As much as he didn’t want you out of his sight, Marco understood what had to happen. 

“Exactly. To that end, in order to allow Luna to escape, you will need to grant her some measure of independence,” Izou said. Marco frowned, that wasn’t news.

“Of course, how else will she feel emboldened enough to escape? Besides, she was just talking to me about her status. She says I am inconsistent and treat her below her level of intelligence,” Marco replied, thinking about what you’d said on Kyuka. Izou raised his eyebrows but didn’t reply to Marco’s statement.

“So I suspect she will highly enjoy the change,” Marco said with a shrug of his shoulders. He really had listened to you on Kyuka, but would have enacted his changes much more slowly if there was no need to find the other humans. 

“Which in turn means you will need to let her walk the ship by herself. If she is going to escape, she needs to have experience navigating the ship alone and getting to the escape pods,” Izou continued, looking pointedly at Marco. 

“...right,” Marco agreed after a moment of consideration. He didn’t like the thought of you walking around without him, or of the myriad ways in which you could be injured without his knowledge. He would have to send orders to the rest of the crew telling them in no uncertain terms not to touch you or interact with you too much. 

“Not only that but I am going to begin monitoring her in your room. The feed will be both live and recorded, for us to review later. We need to be able to see what Luna is doing when she’s left alone there and what plans she’s making. Once you are in the room yourself, you will have the ability to pause or stop the recordings through your controller,” Izou explained.

“Makes sense yoi,” Marco agreed, nodding his head. He would have to remember to turn off the recordings when he was having private experiences with you.

“Which brings me to my next point. You need to cease touching Luna in all ways, including romantic and sexual,” Izou said, his eyes boring into Marco’s.

“Wh – what would be the benefit of that?” Marco sputtered, taken aback by the suggestion. 

“She needs to feel at ease, completely comfortable –”

“She is comfortable with me –”

“No. She needs to feel independent and that she is in total control of her space. If you are constantly guiding her, she will not have the self actualization to begin her plans,” Izou said, a tentacle patting the top of Marco’s hand as if to comfort him.

“It’s not forever, Marco. She needs to feel more self reliant, like she did when she first arrived. You remember her attitude and demeanor,” Izou commented, his tentacles wriggling slightly. 

“What if she decides to touch me?” Marco asked, thinking about the deal he’d struck with you on Kyuka. Izou smiled and inclined his head.

“Then it is her choice and you may indulge her as she sees fit. You may find you enjoy her coming to you, rather than the other way around. There is fun to be had in willing submission. Humans enjoy games of many varieties,” Izou said, his smirk returning to his face. Marco frowned as he turned his tea cup around on the table. It would be difficult not to stroke, touch, and kiss you, but he would do it for the sake of the plan. If you needed space from him in order to act, Marco could comply for the time being. 

“Very well. I will cease touching Luna unless she approaches me yoi,” Marco conceded, already annoyed. His fingers twitched as he thought about the feeling of your soft, warm skin as he had left the bed but he curled his fingers into his palm.

“Good. We have many more details to discuss,” Izou said, sending a lengthy document to Marco over their controllers. Marco rolled his head on his shoulders to release tension, already wishing he was back in bed with you. 

“There’s many moving parts and it needs to be seamless.”

Which is why, hours later, he only had a recording of you pleasuring yourself rather than having been present for the actual event. It had taken every fiber of his being to leave after giving you the toy. He had made it according to the specifications his ancestor had left in his journals a few weeks prior and had been eagerly anticipating using it with you. Marco had read that section of the journal extensively, especially the portions that described the human female’s reaction to the sucking machine. He wanted to see you react to the toy and determine if your reactions were the same, but it wasn’t meant to be at that time. 

Marco sighed as he clipped the footage of you in his bed, the toy buzzing under his blankets. He supposed he could always recreate it later, once his prohibition had been lifted. He had known that being apart from you sexually would be difficult given how intense his attraction to you was, but he hadn’t anticipated how strongly you would react to the toy or he to the footage.

Everything in him was screaming to go to you when he watched your back arch off the bed, your thighs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. He’d clawed his own thigh (which healed seconds later) as you came with a sharp cry, your eyes tightly screwed shut. Marco watched your heavy breaths as you flopped back on the bed, like you were completely boneless. The toy was a hit, and he would be putting it into regular rotation.

Even moreso, Marco had been annoyed when Izou began pinging him during his conversations with you. Izou had heard him saying he would escort you down to the kitchens and had immediately intervened, saying you needed to walk alone. Ultimately, Izou was correct that Marco needed to let you walk independently, and the route to the kitchens was a good start. The passage wasn’t lengthy and it was a fairly direct path back to his lab, so it would be challenging for you to become lost. Marco’s thoughts were interrupted as he received a brief message from you.

“Marco am done,” was all it said. Marco smiled to himself, it really was better seeing his name in your messages than ‘Prince.’ 

On his way back to his room, Marco brought you your glass of water. You were already sitting up in the bed again, refreshed from your orgasm. Even though you vehemently denied that humans needed one daily, the evidence was clearly in his favor. Marco crossed the room towards you, the scent of your desire thick in his nose. Marco inhaled deeply, savoring the rich, earthy smell. 

“Hey, Marco. I was wondering if you could send me something,” you said as you accepted your glass of water. Marco’s decision to let you say his first name was the correct one, he decided. He loved hearing the way your little human mouth pronounced his first name, the sound sending shivers down his spine every time you said it. Why had he forbidden it in the first place when it was so pleasurable?

“Mh? What do you require?” Marco asked, watching you intently. His finger was on the rim of glass, holding it down gently so you couldn’t gulp the water quickly. Even though he was going to temporarily grant you more independence, he would still do everything in his power to ensure that you were healthy. And that included continuing to teach you to eat and drink more slowly.

“Can you send me that vid you took when you brought me on the ship?” you asked. Marco’s eyebrows hiked higher. That was not something he had anticipated you wishing for.

“The one where I tested your –”

“Yeah, where you tested me,” you agreed quickly, your face burning hot. Even though he had seen it innumerable times, Marco always loved seeing your blood rush to your face. It was one of your cutest involuntary reactions, along with the small bumps that rose along your skin when you were cold and your yawns when you were tired. 

“I don’t see why you would want it yoi,” Marco replied mildly before removing his finger. You ran one of your own around the rim of the glass, as if savoring the cool feeling on your fingertip. 

“Everyone else has a copy and I don’t. Why can’t I have it? I’m the one in it,” you complained. Marco thought for a moment and conceded your points. There could be no harm in sending it to you, it wasn’t like you could do anything with it other than watch it. And you were right that it was a vid of you, so you should have access to it. It was a small, harm-free request to grant you, and it would continue to show that he was being more amenable to you. Marco nodded in reply to your query. 

“I don’t understand your desire for it, but in the spirit of cooperation I will send it to you –”

“Thank you –”

“ – if you drink your water slowly rather than chugging it,” Marco said with a small smile. Of all the deals he’d struck with you, this was the easiest one by far so surely you’d capitulate.

“Ok,” you agreed without a fuss. You raised the glass to your mouth and took a sip, swallowing it before taking another. In the meantime, Marco found the vid you had requested and sent it off to you. It wasn’t difficult to find, but Marco hadn’t watched it in some time. He had no reason to watch vids anymore, not when he had a beautiful human living in his quarters. Except now that he was leaving you alone, he thought with a scowl. You immediately put the glass down from your face, watching his expression. 

“Is something wrong?” you asked. Marco erased his annoyance from his face, resetting his features into a calm state. He hadn’t really understood how on edge you had been with him until the previous day. Every time he allowed his negative emotions to show, you felt compelled to ask him about his mood. It was rather depressing, he realized, to think he had inadvertently trained you to notice when he would be more likely to punish you. Perhaps having to foster your independence could have other positive outcomes other than allowing you to escape. 

“Nothing is wrong, Luna. I have sent you the vid as you requested yoi,” Marco said, closing his controller. You took the last sip of your water before handing him the glass once more. Marco sanitized and put it away while you tapped on your controller, bringing up the vid and pausing it.

“Is…is that what I looked like?” you asked suddenly, your voice tinged with concern. Your hand was idly touching the skin of your face as you looked at a still from the vid. 

“Of course. That is from the day I found you yoi,” Marco confirmed. 

“Kidnapped, not found,” you said absently, tugging on the ends of your hair.

“It’s a matter of perspective,” Marco said, coming to stand behind you. His fingers curled into his palm to prevent himself from cupping the soft skin of your neck. Marco had the sense that you desired comfort and he wished to provide it, though the constraints of his current agreement with Izou prevented it.

“I can’t believe it. I looked so gross and sick,” you said, tilting your head to the side. Marco looked at the still, the memories of just how frail you were coming to his head. It was easy to forget how sickly you’d been at first when he saw you day by day. In comparison to the vid your skin was no longer ashy and sallow but healthy and glowing, your hair no longer brittle and parched, the dark bags under your eyes nearly gone. You were hardly the same human he had found exhausted and scared, hiding yourself on some third class merchant ship.

“You were not – and are not – gross. You were sick, yes. Without my intervention I do not know how much longer you would have been able to survive,” Marco agreed. 

“It wasn’t that bad –”

“Most of your bodily systems were heavily overworked or close to failure yoi.”

“Whatever,” you said, dismissing his words with a wave of your hand. Marco wasn’t going to press you or scold you for disobedience. It was likely jarring to see the condition in which he’d found you and how much you had needed from him. Your unslakable desire for independence (or perhaps your pride) wouldn’t allow you to admit how much you needed him. You would come to terms with it eventually, of that Marco had no doubt. 

“But I think I look better now, right?” you said hesitantly, looking back at Marco for confirmation. Marco wanted to trill at you, but kept himself in check. You were already seeking his validation, whether you realized it or not. After a brief stint of independence, you would come to realize how much better life with the Whitebeard Pirates was – life with him was – rather than dying in some forgotten corner of the universe.

“Much. You have access to nutritional foods, plenty of water, and you’re receiving rest and care. You are in better health, though still not optimal. Your cardiovascular system still needs exercise. But yes, you look much more robust than you had when we first met,” Marco said, proud of how far you’d come in such a short time. Your mouth twisted as you listened to his words. 

“Like a perfect pet,” you said, closing the video. 

“Like a healthy human,” Marco corrected you. “Now let’s go see Thatch. He’s already pinged me four times asking where you are.”

Notes:

Transitional chapter, I know. But it’s important to establish why Marco’s backing off. I got re-hyped on this story again and already started the next chapter. Love u.

“ – and you heard what he said! He wants to collect me and take me back to Marie Geoise as his slave! I can’t believe you of all people want to subject me to that,” you hissed, spinning around on your heel to leave. Dragon sputtered, his hands up in supplication to you.

“Clover, wait! That’s not true! Tell her Shamrock, that’s not what he meant! I’ll…I’ll get you an assistant for your work! He hasn’t even told me your connection, maybe he wasn’t your master. You won’t know unless you talk to him,” Dragon pleaded, physically cutting you off from your escape route to the door. You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I am not a bargaining chip for you to use! I will be no one's pawn!” you exclaimed, blowing hair out of your face.

“Clover, listen–” Dragon began another renewed effort at getting you to agree to the deal he’d struck with Shamrock. 

In retrospect, telling you he was going to collect you wasn’t Shamrock’s finest line. He had imagined your reunion so many times, but hadn’t actually thought through what he was going to say. Everything in his mind had gone blank upon seeing you again, your beauty and charms disarming him more than ever. He had said the first thing that came to mind and it had upset you. Which, he understood. He’d apologize to you at a time when you were receptive to hearing it. Still, Shamrock would let Dragon deal with the fall out. He wasn’t in the habit of begging, and he wasn’t going to start in front of Dragon. 

It was strange to have to introduce himself and have you so opposed to spending time with him. The person you were before would have already been tucked under his arm, hanging on his every microexpression. But you had changed in your time apart from him, and there was no way of undoing that. Shamrock wasn’t sure he would want to change you back – you were so alive right now, a person in your own right rather than an extension of himself. 

Your reunion was one of his recurring fantasies, and in his deepest desires you would recognize him and fold yourself into his arms. However, he knew this was not a likely outcome. Beyond the fact that you didn’t know who he was, you had led separate lives many years by this point. Shamrock had no interest in forcing your compliance – he wanted you just as enthusiastic and sweet as you had been all those years ago. For that, he was willing to wait and reintroduce himself to you. He wasn’t the same as Shanks – heavens forbid – but he and his brother shared a certain magnetism that he was sure would win you over. He’d waited for so long to see you again, he would wait until you were willing to come to him. 

For that reason, Shamrock merely crossed his legs, idly petting Titus as he watched the scene play out in front of him. He knew you’d come around eventually and agree to talk to him for an hour a day. The deal was heavily in Dragon’s favor – Shamrock would spend time with you, and in return share the secrets of Marie Geoise and the Holy Knights. Dragon would do anything ensure your compliance, so in the meantime he enjoyed seeing your newfound fiery personality. He supposed it was an inevitable outcome from living in the Lower World, and he found it rather attractive. You were no longer the meek slave of all those years before, but now a passionate woman. You were standing your ground against one of the strongest men in the world, and seemingly winning. 

Shamrock had also enjoyed your jab at his brother’s facial hair, your barb hitting home. Shanks adamantly denied it but he had styled his goatee after seeing Shamrock’s. Despite being identical, Shamrock felt it didn’t suit his younger brother and had already told him as such. He was glad to see he wasn’t alone. Frankly, it was his look and he didn’t want his brother copying him.  

Dragon turned serious as you tried to duck under his arm, putting his hand on your shoulder. He donned an expression that Shamrock wasn’t quite sure how to place. It was like one Beckman sometimes gave Shanks, but softer and kinder. It was paternal, Shamrock realized, something akin to worry and concern. Despite having a parent of his own, Shamrock had never seen that look on Father or anyone else he knew. 

“Clover. Shamrock isn’t taking you to Marie Geoise. You are a member of the Revolutionary Army. He can’t return there without facing certain death. You have my word that you will remain here with us as long as you wish. Do you have faith in the Revolutionary Army?” he asked, looking you in the eyes. You pursed your lips and nodded, still wary.

“We all need to make sacrifices to bring down the World Government. Many have sacrificed their lives for our mission. All I am asking is for you to spend an hour in his company every day. He cannot touch you, much less hurt you. In exchange, Shamrock will share information the likes of which we could have never hoped to gain. It will save countless lives, and impact millions of others. Can I have your word that you will spend an hour with Shamrock every day?” Dragon asked, laying the manipulation on thick. Shamrock could spot it a mile away, but you perhaps were more susceptible to it since you hadn’t encountered much manipulation. Not that you could remember, anyway. It was silent for a few moments as you weighed your options.

“Alright. I’ll meet with him for an hour,” you finally said, looking up at Dragon.

“In the afternoons or evenings only,” Shamrock butted in to stipulate. You sputtered, finally looking directly at him. Shamrock raised an eyebrow even as he wanted to preen for you like an awkward teenager.

“You are not a morning person. I would rather enjoy your sharp mind at its full potential,” he said as Titus rolled over in his lap, revealing his belly. Shamrock gave you an expectant look as he rubbed his fingers in Titus’ softest fur. Your mouth fell open in outrage and you looked up at Dragon to say something. He beseeched you, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken plea.

“Fine. In the afternoons or evenings,” you gritted out. 

“And again, he can’t touch you unless you permit it,” Dragon continued, removing his hand from your shoulder. Your mouth was set and your shoulders back like Dragon had sentenced you to torture. 

“Very well,” you hissed, ducking under Dragon’s arm and storming out the door.

As the heavy door slammed shut with a resounding bang, Shamrock smiled.

Your POV

Maybe there was a devil fruit out there that let you explode people with your mind. Because if there was, you were going to find it and eat it so you could explode Shamrock. 

And maybe Shanks too just for the hell of it.

You’d never met someone so irritatingly collected as Shamrock. It seemed like there wasn’t anything that you could do or say that would upset him. Like you had agreed, you met up with Shamrock in the afternoon. For the location you chose the small flower garden since it was one of your favorite spots on the island. Despite having only exchanged three sentences with him, you were already cross with Shamrock. 

You plopped yourself down on the stone bench in the shade and remained completely silent as you watched the Celestial Dragon enter the small garden. Shamrock took a seat on the bench opposing yours and watched you calmly, a small smile on his lips. You glared back. Titus, ever the traitor, was there as well. He had stayed with Shamrock the entire afternoon and was now napping in a patch of sunlight. 

It didn’t take Vegapunk to put everything together –  Shamrock was a defected Celestial Dragon who wanted to spend time with you and you were a former slave from Marie Geoise. Clearly there was some kind of relationship between you that he wanted to rekindle. You snorted out loud – that wouldn’t be happening. You’d sit with him, sure. Dragon had made it clear that Shamrock was helping the RA in ways that no one ever had before. But there wouldn’t be anything between you.

Ever. 

The two of you sat in silence for nearly the whole hour as you glowered at him from about ten feet away. You had no interest in conversing with him, and Shamrock evidently did not wish to begin either. You felt like each minute was an eternity, lasting longer and longer with the deafening silence. 

Bored out of your mind, you ran your eyes over Shamrock. What people wore and how they carried themselves revealed a lot so you were trying to discreetly gather as much information as you could. It wasn’t a trick, you thought, Shamrock definitely belonged to the noble class. Shamrock noticed immediately, his smirk growing as he caught you looking at him. You huffed and averted your gaze, looking instead at the flowers blooming behind him. Eventually, Shamrock stood up gracefully and walked the perimeter of the garden, stopping a few feet away from you to inspect a blood red rose.

True to his word, Shamrock had not made any moves to touch you. In fact, he hadn’t even spoken a single word to you. Why was he waiting for you to break the silence? Celestial Dragons cared for nothing and no one and were revered as gods. He should want to pontificate and bloviate endlessly. His divergence from what you expected only irritated you more – you didn’t want any part in the strange games he was playing. Your blood boiled – how dare he toy with you?

But what bothered you the most was that he looked so goddamn pretty. In fact, you were not proud to admit you found him downright gorgeous. Shamrock was literally the man of your fantasies, there was no doubt about it. But it was more than that. Whereas Shanks was carefree charisma, Shamrock was smoldering heat. His hair flowed in waves down his back, his well manicured hands elegant in every movement he made. And did the wind have to blow his cloak just so to reveal his open chest? How did he make being single handed look so sexy? Shamrock looked the part of a despotic noble, but damn if he didn’t make it look good. 

You hadn’t forgotten the singular memory that you’d retained from your time together, how he’d cradled you against him in the afterglow of tender, passionate lovemaking. Your mind railed against you – he’d probably coerced you or forced you to be with him, you thought. Though, from what you could remember of that night, you had been as fervent in your desires as he was in his. You narrowed your eyes at him once more, certain that he had played some kind of disgusting trick to make you act that way.

Shamrock removed a chrysanthemum from the bush behind you, extending it to you in a mute offering. You scoffed and ignored him, your fingers gripping your thighs a little harder. One of your hands roved higher, pulling at the emerald around your neck. There were only a few minutes left of the hour since you’d spent most of your time scowling at him. Shamrock pushed his stupidly beautiful hair behind his neck and continued watching you as if he had all the time in the world. This was too much for you – your anger boiled over and you had to say something. 

“Just because you’ve commandeered my time doesn’t mean I enjoy spending time with you. In fact, I despise you. I’m only doing this for the sake of the Revolutionary Army. If I want to ignore you every single day, I shall,”  you said petulantly. You were being bratty, but you didn’t care. He deserved everything you said to him and worse. Yet you weren’t being nearly as nasty as you should be, something in you stopping you from flowing with hate.

“I do not mind. We have spent innumerable hours in companionable silence together,” Shamrock replied easily, twirling the stem between his fingers before smelling it. You felt like hissing at him but you merely sniffed. You loved the chrysanthemums dearly, and had always wanted to take one to bring back to your room. But ultimately you thought it would be too selfish to deprive everyone else of its beauty. Clearly, Shamrock did not feel the same way. How typical of a Noble, you thought.

“And you do not despise me. Perhaps you wish you did, but you do not. I know you well. You are curious,” he said, now smelling the flower. Your face burned hot with his assessment – you were curious about your past but you’d never admit he was right. 

“I am not!” you retorted, turning to face him. “I do hate you! I could only feel hatred towards someone who has directly contributed to the suffering – probably has ordered the suffering –”

“You fidget with your necklace when you are curious or distressed. I do not sense you are distressed. Incensed perhaps, but not distressed,” he supplied. You flushed even further as he read you like an open book. It was beyond humiliating to be completely understood by someone you had no memories of. Or at least, only one memory.

“You do not wish to know anything about your past?” he asked softly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards slightly. You again wished to be able to explode this man as he lured you into talking to him against your desires.

“Of course I do. Do you know what happened to my memories?” you asked, despite already knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have demanded your time unless he knew about your past. And yes, you hated him and everything he stood for, but he likely was the only way you’d find out what had happened to you prior to Kuraigana. Once he revealed what had happened you could go back to sulking endlessly until this stupid deal was over.

“Indeed. I know everything about you. Your past, how you came to be literate, how you got your peculiar slave mark, the chain about your neck, about Titus. I know it all,” he said languidly, taking a few steps towards you. You shut your mouth and weighed your options. On one hand, you didn’t want to talk to Shamrock any more than you had to. On the other hand, he might be the sole person who could give you the answers you had been seeking for years. 

“And I will tell you anything you wish you know,” he said, taking the final step that brought him next to you. You looked up at him, swallowing thickly. He couldn’t touch you per Dragon’s rules but that didn’t stop the wind from carrying a very familiar scent to your nose. Shamrock’s scent was similar to Shanks – notes of orange with a hint of cinnamon – but his also had a touch of cloves and tobacco. The scent scratched an itch you didn’t know you had, like your brain was trying to conjure memories but coming up short. 

“You will?” you asked distractedly, momentarily caught off guard by his smell.

“Of course. If you answer mine, that is. We can go question for question,” he suggested, his cloak gently flapping in the wind. You were about to answer when he sighed and gave you a soft smile.

“But you’ll have to wait. Our time is up. Until tomorrow,” Shamrock said breezily, setting the flower down beside you. Before you could think of a retort for him, Shamrock had sauntered away, with Titus following in tow. Even without the exact resemblance, he was absolutely Shanks’ twin brother. You seethed in anger, your hands balling into fists on your legs. You threw the flower to the other side of the garden, the bloom landing in the soft grass.

Shamrock was trying to use this deal against you, you knew that. He wanted something from you, and you were going to fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from getting it.

Even so, you gently picked up the flower as you stomped off out of the garden. Shamrock had already picked it, there was no use in letting it go to waste. And he was gone, he wouldn’t know if you took it or not. You’d put it in a vase in your room, where he’d never see it. 

Your next mission after finding out about your past was looking for that fruit.

Shanks POV

Shanks watched as Shamrock meandered through the main street, a grin on his face. For as prissy and annoying as his brother was, Shanks was glad to see that the reunion between you had gone well. Shanks hadn’t been joking when Shamrock first joined the crew. He strongly felt that without you, Shamrock would become a complete maniac with nothing left to lose. Shanks shuddered at the thought – he was strong, and Shamrock was too. For as much as his brother annoyed him, he didn’t want to fight him to the death. Not that he’d lose, of course, but still. And really, Dragon had enough problems right now. He didn’t need his island split apart by some brotherly bickering.

For that reason alone, Shanks was happy that it had gone well. Well, that was Shamrock’s estimation of events. Shanks was curious about your perspective on the meeting, though even he knew better than to go find you right now. Shanks would gather his information the normal way – through Ginny and Iva after they’d been drinking. Shanks and his crew were holed up under the shade of a large tree near the center of the main campus, enjoying alcohol that their friends in the Revolutionary Army provided.

“He’s smiling,” Yasopp said, pausing his drinking to watch Shamrock amble by. Everyone was trying to surreptitiously watch over the rims of their glasses.

“He’s strolling,” Limejuice said, his mouth hanging open.

“I haven’t seen him crack a smile outside of when he beats you in drinking contests,” Rockstar said, watching Shamrock reach into his breast pocket for his flask.

“Which he never has,” Shanks said amicably as Shamrock continued walking, that fucking horse-cat following him like a shadow. It was actually annoying how good looking Shamrock was. Yes, he was identical to Shanks but Shamrock somehow seemed more debonair and suave. Shanks thought he’d be the clear winner in the looks department, but it wasn’t so. Maybe it was that mysterious nature of his, Shanks thought, pulling on his goatee. You and Shamrock were wrong, Mihawk was going to love it. 

“I heard she ripped him a new one,” Beckman said, lighting another cigarette.  Beckman was noticeably more relaxed than he had been during docking. Shanks was happy he’d found some way or other to chill out.

“How’d you hear that?” Shanks said, facing his first mate.

“Iva,” Beckman said, putting out his match. 

“She doesn’t give information without pay. Whadya give her?” Lucky asked. Beckman smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“Somethin’ she’s been wantin’,” he said, exhaling smoke out his nose. Shanks gave him a wicked grin.

“Clover tore into him and he likes it? I told him his hair was tangled one time and he drew his sword,” Hongo complained.

“I think she could rip off his other arm, beat him with it, and he’d thank her,” Shanks grumbled. If he was being honest, he was glad for a break from his brother. Shamrock wasn’t exactly what Shanks had been expecting, but he certainly wasn’t a pirate either. Shanks had been the primary target for his brother’s anger throughout their journey together. Though the more Shamrock revealed about his life in Marie Geoise, the more Shanks understood the deep seated rage and suspicion that clouded Shamrock’s decisions. 

“He’s not gonna, like, hurt her or try or make her a slave again. Right?” Bonk said, coming back to their spot with another round of ale. You had wormed your way into their hearts despite your outwardly indifferent demeanor towards them on Kuraigana. In fact, their estimation of you was similar to that of Mihawk’s. Yours was actually higher thanks to the biscotti you had baked for them. Well, not for them, but they’d eaten their fair share.

“Nah,” Shanks said simply. He had worried about the same thing initially and had spoken to Shamrock a few times about it. It had made Shanks feel a little better to hear that he wanted to get to know you, to slowly reintroduce himself and try to make you fall in love with him again. Shanks wasn’t sure that was possible, but Shamrock didn’t seem to have the same doubts.

Frankly, Shanks felt sorry for Shamrock in a lot of ways. He couldn’t imagine a better way to grow up than on the Oro, with Roger and Rayleigh and Gaban and Buggy. It was adventure and fun and love and incredible experiences all rolled into one. And based on what Shamrock had revealed, Shanks couldn’t imagine a worse way to grow up than with their father and the other God’s Knights. 

Shamrock had to sacrifice everything in order to keep the only person who had ever shown him human kindness safe. His love for you was considered a weakness, an aberration, and based on what he had said, you would have been swiftly killed if not for Shamrock. Shamrock had never revealed to him the entire story of what had happened that resulted in your memory loss, but it must have hurt him immensely to say goodbye to the only person he’d ever loved and return to Marie Geoise. 

“I can hear you, you chittering hens,” Shamrock said, pausing in his tracks. Shanks’ eyebrows raised on his forehead. Holy fuck Shamrock was in a good mood, he hadn’t even threatened bodily harm to anyone on the crew.

“Come drink with us,” Shanks urged, grabbing a tankard of ale. Shamrock considered the idea for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side. Shanks was proud of himself – he’d been working on Shamrock for weeks on end trying to make him more social and amicable. He had been met with a lot of resistance at first, but had made admirable progress if he did say so himself. Shamrock retained his haughty and condescending nature, but at times he could be nearly pleasant. Shamrock turned around and ambled towards Shanks, his mood apparently still on record high.

“Very well. Only one round. I must make preparations for tomorrow.”

Notes:

Shanks is catching strays bc I think it’s funny. You can’t be annoying all the time and expect people not to be annoyed.

Shanks’ flower as listed in his Vivre Card is the Japanese Toad Lily, so I took notes from that to give Shamrock his scent. I've never smelled it myself (I think?) so I hope it matches.

@sin-namonroll who can remember?! My Sabo fic is almost over, which is hard to believe. I only have one more chapter left. It's been 1.5 years in the making! Thank you for reading it Sinna.

Hahahaha thank you Nonny! I write what I find funny but I'm always happy to know others find it humorous as well. I mean....giant food would be a life saver for Sanji / Thatch. Make one meat and Luffy and Ace could be fed.... the potential is endless (to make more meat). Add in Zoro's alcohol and she's a crowd pleaser.

THANK YOU @swampstew!!! I'm still writing some pieces for it! There's no official theme but the general gist is dub / noncon. Which is pretty typical for me tbh.

THANK YOU @alexa-yukiyu!!! MY WRISTS ARE GREAT!! I hope you're doing well!!!

@amearla That's a really interesting concept!! I do have plans for other crews (that I like) to acquire humans but I hadn't thought of a Shandian element!! I've been chewing on this idea tbh. As for Enies Lobby, that honestly just sounds like fun and I do think they'd end up with a human and everyone is kinda ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Guess we got a human now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I know you sent in more AUs of this AU and I wanna write the SHP one that you sent in. I did start it but didn't finish it yet. Thank you for your kind words and sharing your ideas with me <3

Thank you @cherubyim!! I'm so glad you liked it!! Yeah, Croc's pretty ripe for some non con / heavy dub con. I've got another one cooking for him bc I can't get enough of that guy. Stay tuned <3

Whoh my gourd. Ganbare! I will tell you the secret I've been hiding. I primarily read One Piece and watch episodes I think will animate well. I personally don't like the fights that much and they take so looooong. So I'll watch some scenes of fighting but overall I'm a reader more than a watcher. That being said, I prefer the Japanese just bc I don't care for the Kid or Buggy VA in English. I also think Luffy's voice is so cute in Japanese (esp pre-ts) and it makes me wanna pinch his cheek. Long answer to a short question!!

This is in reference to the "mate" comment at the end of chapter 23 of Fully Human

They're both so smart and yet so dumb. My favorite kind of character hahaha. I'm writing the next one now -- maybe at one point they'll learn to communicate directly but it sure isn't now.

He's interesting!! But I gotta say Imu doesn't light my fire just yet. He might as we see more from him. Truly, if evil why hot, yanno?

Though @thatanonymouschocolate did kind of convince me on King. I wasn't into him for the longest time...but...now....I'm kinda seeing something there...Nonny worked their magic on me and the thots are starting to turn on in my brain.

OMG 🫣🫣 THANK YOU NONNY! I'm writing more of him 4 u (and for me) because I love him too. I don't write him all that often because I feel like he needs specific scenarios -- I really think he'd be selective of who he cares about -- but he's one of my top characters.

Haha, yes! Both are by me. It's funny when that happens to people. Thank you so much!!!! I'm writing the next bull au but I haven't been in quite the right mood to get a lot done tbh. I have to be in a specific mood for the more brutal stuff and it hasn't hit me recently. And don't worry, she'll get some love eventually. They won't actually hurt her, she's just getting punished. Again, thank you!!

Honestly, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. I've been thinking about this one since the inception of the fic and it's really gratifying to finally write it. Thank you so so much. Truly, I write so that people can enjoy it (after all, daydreaming is much faster) and it really gives me more strength to keep writing when I read asks / comments like this. Thank you Nonny.

@missbeckman hell yeah I love ABO. I've been reading it for like 20 years, I don't think my interest will wane hahaha. I actually have a full scenario planned for his ABO, but I haven't gotten around to writing it. I always want to write so much but there's only so much time. Not only that but my interest gets dragged around and I forget what was compelling me before. I'm still working on asks from uhhhh November... Truly, I like the research, I think it's a fun part of the writing gig.

short answer: yes, I would write it. I have an outline for it. I haven't done it yet.

Congratulations @amearla!!! I hope your finals went so so well for you. I'm hanging in there!! Trying my best most of the time. Yes! JJK is an interest of mine but I don't think it can contain me the way OP can. There's simply not enough DILFs / MILFs / GILFs. *One* evil 1000 year sorcerer can only do so much, you know? Though Kenjaku....kinda...... interesting to me...

My favorite is honestly Todo. He makes me laugh so much whenever he's up to his nonsense. Toji ofc is up there but only if I can make him a better father. I think Gojo is incredibly interesting (so is Geto) but Gojo isn't my pookie. Higuruma is definitely up there, along with Sukuna and Choso. Yuji I love like Luffy. I feel like that's rambling.

Todo is my actual favorite, but I like writing Toji best.

:) :) :)

He definitely didn't tell Shamrock. That would absolutely send Shamrock over the edge and they'd fight For Real. Two redheaded idiots with Conqueror's on one tiny ship?? Everyone's getting shipwrecked. It will come up, but no, Shanks isn't that stupid.

Hi @iansimpsforeveryone!! I do like Loki a lot BUT I have a hard time with suspension of disbelief because he's so large. Like even for WB I am making reader 18 ft tall in his fic because I think around 10 ft is the max a human pussy could take for the most part. So yes, I do like Loki and *would* but I'll have to think about how to get around the fact that he's so fucking large.

Gah. I can start it I guessssss. Really, I don't care for action and this part is so action-y. That's why the last one took so long, I hate writing action. Fine fine fine I'll get to it. I wanna finish off that story.

whoh. His enemies?!? Do you mean like Kid or like the Marines?? Either way, I think he'd do that himself, he doesn't need enemies to help him with that. But yes, I did start a second part as well as the part for Kid. I think the Kid part will get done first because I love him way more than Law (sorry). I feel like whatever shiny keys are dangling in front of my face is what I write. I'm sure it's frustrating for y'all when I drop an idea for a while, for which I apologize.

Since then, you’d become the defacto accountant of the Revolutionary Army. You had protested that you didn’t have any experience in accounting or even in bookkeeping, that you’d only read a few books about it on Kuraigana. Even so, you were shortly given an office and incredible amounts of paperwork that all needed sorting.

Frankly, you didn’t understand how the Revolutionary Army stayed afloat this long with their accounts so out of sorts. You had to spend your first week practically living in the office down the hall from Dragon’s, reconciling all their invoices and trying to determine how much money the RA actually had. They didn’t even have a single balance sheet, for Nika’s sake. At least Dragon had trained everyone to keep receipts, you thought. 

But despite your lack of actual training, the work didn’t bother you too much. It all was fairly easy for you since you seemed to have a knack for numbers and mathematics. Dragon had welcomed you happily into the fold, saying that your actions on Whiskey Peak had inspired others to revolt against the slave trade. However, he seemed even more jubilant that someone had finally agreed to take on the beancounting for the guerrilla organization. 

If you were being honest, you were happy to provide a unique service to the RA. Doing their financial work was one way to make yourself harder to replace. You were hoping that doing the rather boring task would endear you to Dragon, lending you his protection when the time came. Because something was going to happen, and soon. 

It was a strange time in your life, like the calm before the storm. You had arrived at Baltigo about six weeks prior and had settled into life fairly well at the Revolutionary Army base. You met many members, including Emporio Ivankov, Hack, and Ginny. You liked them all, and found yourself well liked in return, but you hadn’t really found your person yet. You spent a lot of your time alone, working, practicing your archery or riding Titus around the island. It was alright, you’d spent years by yourself so you weren’t afraid of being alone. It wasn’t a bad life, and certainly more interesting than the one you had on Kuraigana.

But no matter how much work you did, or people you met, or arrows you fired, you couldn’t shake the feeling of looming change. You knew that Mihawk was coming for you and there would be some kind of confrontation between you. That was part of the reason why you’d made yourself so useful to Dragon – you were hoping he’d intercede on your behalf when Mihawk came to take you back to Kuraigana. You didn’t know what Dragon’s relationship was like to Mihawk (or if they even had one) but Dragon was strong and the island his home base. You hoped that Dragon’s ideals of freedom extended to you, even if it included fneding off one of the world's strongest swordsmen.

You humphed as you thought about your chances of being forcibly taken back to Kuraigana. All of this was Crocodile’s fault. Yes, you were also partly to blame for trusting him, but he was the one who had used you as a bargaining chip to become a Warlord. The program was stupid anyway, you thought as you eyed his expense reports. Clearly, the World Government would use the Warlords and dump them when it became inconvenient. And that was the best case scenario – you thought the World Government would imprison Crocodile ex post facto for whatever he did for them, but that was his problem.  

You had been cold and aloof when you saw Crocodile in person. Crocodile didn’t seem to mind at all, which only irritated you further. However, you had the power to be fastidious about his paperwork. You had rejected nearly all of his claims and burned half his receipts, making him do extra paperwork by the armload. He had come to your office to complain, but you continued on your quest of death by 1,000 paper forms. You didn’t even feel bad about it, he deserved it and worse. 

Which, Crocodile seemed to be having a fairly bad time on his own. After you’d returned with him, Crocodile had spent many hours in Dragon’s office, their voices growing louder as time went on. After that, the nights on Baltigo were often filled with sandstorms and lightning, leading to a large amount of fulgurites you found on the beaches in the morning.. You had even taken a few particularly interesting specimens back to your office, one of which went missing. You could only conclude that Dragon and Crocodile were spending their time fighting rather than enjoying each other’s company. You suspected it would end in Crocodile leaving the island  and possibly the RA, which was perfectly fine by you.

Sighing, you left Titus alone to get back to your work. Your cat had been restless all day, and you didn’t have time to deal with his antsy mood any longer. He would come around once there was an open can of tuna, you were sure of it. You sat back down in your chair and pulled the giant ledger towards you once again, along with Iva’s immense amount of expense reports. 

Suddenly,Titus leapt from the windowsill down to the floor in front of you. As soon as his paws hit the ground, he changed into his large horse form. He tossed his head at you, beckoning you to follow him. You frowned at him, the clattering of his hooves distracting you from your work.

“Really?” you asked, your chin in your palm. “Dragon doesn’t like you in horse form inside,” you chided your impatient companion. Dragon was less rigid than Mihawk had been, but neither were thrilled about having a horse in their buildings.Titus huffed and nudged you with his nose, urging you to come with him. You raised an eyebrow at his unusual behavior. It was so rare for him to act this way, so your curiosity was piqued. You pushed away from your large desk and left the reports for another time. After all, they’d been unattended for years, a few more hours wouldn’t matter. 

You followed Titus out of the building and onto the main campus of the RA. You mounted him easily, your muscles moving on their own from memory. The moment you were on his back, Titus took off at a full gallop down towards the dock. You grabbed his mane and held on tight, nearly knocked off in your surprise. Titus clearly had a destination in mind as he galloped towards the shore. He took you to a clearing high on a hilltop where you could see all the ships coming and going below. The two of you had spent hours here before, calmly watching the goingson of the island under the shade of the trees. 

Titus reached the clearing quickly and stopped, tossing his head to indicate he had reached his destination. As you dismounted, you saw a very familiar ship on the horizon. Your heart sank as you ran your hand over his flank, idly braiding his mane. 

“You’re really that excited to see Shanks?” you asked incredulously. As far as you remembered, Titus didn’t care for Shanks. He had finally allowed Shanks to be in his presence after a few visits, and had even stopped transforming at inopportune times, but that was about it. You cocked your head to the side as you thought. Shanks might be here by coincidence, but if you had to guess, it was somehow related to you. Maybe Mihawk had asked Shanks to come fetch you, or to start the process. 

“Oh. Mihawk is there too?” you asked in a flat voice. That was your best guess, you couldn’t really imagine why else Titus would be so interested in the ship. Titus and Mihawk had gotten along quite well, but not enough to warrant such attention. Either way, you weren’t interested in seeing the swordsman again. 

As far as you were concerned, Mihawk had betrayed you three times and you wanted to be rid of him. His first betrayal was knowing about your past, and lying about it. The second betrayal was for not telling you what he knew about you once you found out. The third was for selling you out to Crocodile a few weeks prior. Well, you were done with his lies. If Titus wanted to see Mihawk, well, he could wait there alone. 

“I don’t want to see those two. I’m leaving,” you said with a wave of your hand. You turned to go – reconciling the Iva’s costume accounts would be more interesting than watching the stupid ship dock – but Titus chomped the hem of your shirt. 

“Hey! Let go!” you complained, pulling at your shirt. Titus was resolute, not yielding in the slightest. And for as strong as you’d grown, you were no match for the horse.

“Titus, this isn’t funny. I don’t want to see Shanks or Mihawk. Let me go,” you whined. The ship was now within viewing sight of the clearing and in the process of docking.

“I swear I’m gonna rip it off and go shirtless if you don’t…” your words trailed off as you turned to face the ship. There wasn’t anything wrong per se, but you had the eerie feeling of being watched. You hid yourself behind Titus, still able to see the ship. Scanning the ship, you didn’t see Mihawk’s distinctive plumed hat or giant sword. 

Instead, you saw Shanks standing at the bow of the ship, his hand on the pommel of his sword. He was looking towards the island, his clothing flapping in the wind behind him. You furrowed your brow – something was different about Shanks this time. You’d seen Shanks many times, and you had never seen him standing so stiffly. Now that you thought about it, he never walked around resting his hand on his sword either. 

Shanks’ red hair was much longer now, tied back at his temples in braids. He was also wearing much fancier clothes than you ever remembered seeing. Frankly, you didn’t think Shanks had a shirt that buttoned above his navel much less a suit and riding boots. And was he missing an arm? The left arm of his three piece suit fluttered in the wind as he stared at the island. 

And where was his straw hat? The one that never left his head? Sure, he could change his clothes as he pleased but this new outfit and bearing had him looking like…like…someone else entirely. In fact the more you looked at him, the more the uncanny feeling grew in you. It wasn’t that he was unattractive – if anything you found this version of Shanks more appealing. You couldn’t help but wonder – who was this?

Your heart thumped faster in your chest, sweat forming on your brow. Your hands were jittery and sweaty and you became a little lightheaded. If not for TItus, you would have fallen over. What the fuck was happening to you? 

Titus let go of your shirt to rear and whinny loudly, drawing attention towards the clearing. 

“Titus, quiet!” you whispered loudly, trying to grab his mane to get him to stop. He whinnied again, bringing even more unwanted focus towards you.

“Change to a cat, you idiot!” you whisper-yelled at him. Titus remained in his horse form against your orders, something he’d never done before. You felt bad and would apologize later for calling him an idiot but truly, what was wrong with him? He never acted this way. Shanks’ head whipped towards you, staring at the clearing as if he could see you directly. You froze – whoever this was, you did not want to attract any of his interest. You ducked behind a tree, but it didn’t stop the hairs from rising on the back of your neck. 

Your mouth fell open as you saw a much more familiar version of Shanks walk up to the new one, saying something and laughing. This was the Shanks you knew, smiles and sunshine and strawhats. Unless there was some kind of cloning Devil Fruit in the world, it was obvious Shanks had a brother. Likely a twin, you thought, as they walked towards the dinghies together.

But in all your time of knowing him, Shanks had never mentioned a brother related by blood. He told you all about his adventures with Buggy, Benn, Roger, Whitebeard, Garp, Rayleigh…half the known world seemed to be in his stories. You had listened patiently while Shanks yapped about everyone and everything he knew, and he had never mentioned having a twin brother. Your gut burned with yet another betrayal as you stroked Titus’ neck. 

“Titus, let’s go,” you said softly, trying to mount him. But Titus instead shifted into his cat form and scampered into the brush of the clearing. He scampered down towards the dock, faster than you’d ever seen him move before.

“You stinker!” you hissed at your horse-cat. Licking your lips, you hesitated on what to do. You didn’t want to admit that you needed protection, you were past the cowering stage of your life. Yet your feet took you back towards the RA stronghold, avoiding the Shanks situation entirely. You weren’t arrogant enough to think that you could defy Shanks, no matter your skill at the bow and arrow. If Shanks was here to drag you back to Mihawk, you were going to have to rely on Dragon.

Shamrock POV

“Hello, old friend,” Shamrock said with a small smile, running his hand along Titus’ flank. His horse had come to meet him at the dock, changing from a cat to rear in excitement as Shamrock ascended from the small dinghy bringing him ashore. Shamrock leaned his forehead in against Titus’ own, closing his eyes for a moment. It brought him immense satisfaction to see his horse, and to know that Titus had kept his word to keep you safe. 

“This is the welcoming committee?” Shanks asked behind him. “That horse hates me,” Shanks grumbled. Shamrock opened his eyes and continued smiling softly at Titus. He had missed Titus greatly, 

“Excellent taste, Titus,” Shamrock said indulgently. Shanks scoffed as he started walking up the dock towards the island. 

“Shut up and let’s go already. Dragon is expecting us,” Shanks complained. Shanks hadn’t grown less irritating over their ocean voyage, but Shamrock had learned to ignore most of what Shanks said. Shamrock hadn’t been used to anyone speaking at length in his presence, but Shanks had inured him to the action over their weeks together on the seas. Shamrock ignored his brother, as always, and walked down the dock alongside Titus.

Shamrock noted the braids in Titus’ mane with a smile, reaching forward to touch one. It reminded him of the ones he still wore in his own hair, though since he had lost an arm he had needed assistance to create his favored look. Perhaps you would once again take over the task. Shamrock would much rather you do it for him than Benn Beckman, no matter how skilled the first mate was. Shamrock stroked Titus’ fine neck with his fingers, pleased to see his former companion. 

The trip to Baltigo had been less unpleasant than he initially imagined, though the length of the voyage was surprising. He’d never traveled anywhere outside of the Abyss, which was incredibly convenient. The seven week journey at sea had taught him much about sailing and life on the seas. 

He had learned about his brother as well, spending many hours in each other’s company. Their relationship had grown since the beginning of the trek, even Shamrock could see that. Yet, Shamrock was thankful to be on land again, where he could seek solitude and recharge after nearly two months of constant contact with others. 

“Dragon will wait until I am ready,” Shamrock replied acerbically. As it was, Shamrock was more on edge than he would like to admit. Seeing Titus was a balm to his soul, but it wasn’t enough. His observation haki told him that you were on the island, but he had yet to lay eyes on you himself. This was the culmination of all his machinations, everything that he had been planning and working towards for years, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw you whole and healthy before him. 

“Come along, Titus,” Shamrock said, beckoning his horse to follow. Without another word, Titus trotted behind him placidly, like they had never separated. Shamrock noted that Titus wore no saddle. He had seen a darting figure alongside Titus, which he assumed to be you. You must have become a skilled rider, he thought with pride in his heart. Shamrock’s jealousy grew as he imagined Mihawk teaching you to ride, with you sitting in front of him in the saddle. Shamrock quickly quashed the thought – he needed to be alert and present, not imagining the swordsman he would shortly dismember.

“Hey, don’t push in front. You don’t know where to go,” Shanks complained. 

“It is indeed a challenging puzzle determining which direction to take. And yet I persevere,” Shamrock said dryly as they continued down the singular, well beaten path, annoying his brother further. For whatever reason, he and his brother possessed the innate ability to bait the other, which was equal parts amusing and irritating. Shanks huffed but didn’t reply, walking on Shamrock’s left side. Shanks still had his left arm, which Shamrock had given him ample warning about. What his brother did with the information was not up to him, though Shamrock still honored his offer to remove Shanks’ arms free of charge.

Despite his years of training, Shamrock felt his heart beating faster the closer they came to the Revolutionary Army stronghold. It wasn’t Dragon or the Revolutionaries, though he had certainly heard a lot about the Revolutionaries during his time as a God’s Knight. Every step he took brought him closer to you, closer to finally having you in his arms once more.

Evidently, most of the people on the island were familiar with Shanks and his crew. Many people came up to speak to Shanks, though he continued walking alongside Shamrock. There were many calls to drink in celebration, Shamrock noted with disinterest. Shamrock scanned the gathering crowds for you, but didn’t see you among the ragtag crew. Frankly, he was surprised these were the Revolutionary forces that the God’s Knights talked about. They hardly seemed more than peasants, though of course you weren’t of that caliber. 

Shanks brought Shamrock directly to Dragon’s office, everything passing by in a blur. His sole focus was on you – everything he had worked towards, everything he had done was all for the purposes of seeing you again. You wouldn’t be like you had been before, he knew that. You had many years living without him, and without any knowledge of your past. Yet, he hoped that somewhere inside you were the remnants of the girl he’d met all those years before. As they entered a plain office building Titus shifted and was now perched on Shamrock’s shoulder in cat form.

Shortly thereafter, Shanks and Shamrock stood in Dragon’s office before his giant wooden desk. Dragon stood by the window, his brown hood over his head. Shamrock wasn’t cowed by the dramatics of it all. Even with his formidable presence, Dragon was nowhere near as menacing as any of the Elders. Shamrock couldn’t predict the outcome of this meeting, but he was fairly certain he wouldn’t end up on the floor in a pool of his own blood. For that fact alone, he felt at ease in Dragon’s presence. 

“It’s been a long time -” Dragon gritted out, still facing away from them. Shamrock quirked an eyebrow. A long time since what? He didn’t have to wonder for long as Dragon continued talking.

“A long time since I’ve seen my boys together,” Dragon said as he turned around, tears in his eyes and a wide smile on his face. Shamrock could not have been more surprised if Dragon was revealed to be Imu himself. Dragon pushed his hood down and walked over to the men, grabbing one in each arm and bringing them in for a hug. Shamrock was so taken aback he didn’t have the foresight to stop the gigantic man from squeezing Shamrock against his chest.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Shanks asked, his arms squished by his side, casting a quick glance at Shamrock. It seemed Shanks was just as confused as he was for once. 

“I haven’t seen you together since God’s Valley! My boys, together again at last. But that’s a story for another time,” he said, a single tear running down his cheek. Shanks laughed while Shamrock pulled away, not interested in a sentimental reunion he had no memory of. Dragon turned his attention to Shamrock, his eyes promising more than just a heartfelt trip down memory lane. 

“We have a lot to discuss. I think we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement,” Dragon said with a toothy smile, beckoning him to the chairs in front of his desk. Shamrock pursed his lips – he had expected Dragon to bargain with him, but he wasn’t entirely certain what Dragon knew or didn’t. It was critical to have the upper hand, otherwise Dragon might deny access to you.

“Oi! Get out of that! It was a gift!” Dragon said, yelling across the room at Shanks who had quickly found a hidden bottle of top shelf whiskey. Shanks only smiled as he came back with three glasses filled with the deep amber liquid. 

“You’re gonna need it. You haven’t dealt with Shamrock. He’s something else,” Shanks explained, handing out the glasses. Shamrock accepted the whiskey and crossed his legs, giving Dragon a bored stare. 

“I think we’ll understand each other perfectly,” Dragon said with ease, reaching for the drink. 

Your POV

You weren’t surprised when you heard the fanfare for Shanks outside your window. Everyone was calling out for him, offering him drinks later that evening, and generally wanting his attention. Even you couldn’t deny Shanks’ charisma and charm, you thought as laughter erupted outside.

You rolled your eyes at yet another call for Shanks to come drinking as you pretended to work on closing the books for the month. You really wanted to know what Shanks was up to and who his brother was, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking him directly. You would do what anyone in your situation would do – pump Iva and Ginny for information after Dragon’s meeting in exchange for larger budget allotments. 

Your nails drummed against the desk and your eyes passed over the same line item for the fourth time. You really wished Titus was here so you could pet him to calm yourself down, but you hadn’t seen him since Shanks’ arrival. Titus could handle himself just fine, but not having him with you was unsettling. Just as you were picking up your pen, a rap on your door had you jumping.

“Clover, Dragon wants you in his office,” Ginny said, beckoning you with her hand. 

“Me? Why?” you asked, though you assumed it had something to do with Shanks and Mihawk. 

“I dunno, but get all the information you can. We got bets on what’s going on. I think Shanks got cloned –” Ginny was talking excitedly as you took the short walk towards Dragon’s office.

“I thought that too!” you interrupted. Ginny flashed a big smile at you as she took your arm in her own, stopping in front of the door. She cracked it open slightly before whispering.

“But Kuma says it’s just his shitty brother. Well, Kuma didn’t say shitty, I added that in. So go find out,” she said, pushing you into the open office door. You walked in as elegantly as you could, holding your head high and spine straight.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene in front of you. Shanks was sitting in the guest chairs, with his feet up on Dragon’s desk and draining a glass of whiskey. He had grown a goatee, which was almost working for him. Dragon was leaning back in his own chair, looking satisfied and pleased.

But neither Shanks nor Dragon held your attention. Shanks’ brother was standing next to Dragon’s desk and staring at you, his eyes roving all over your body. His stare was spellbinding, like he was taking stock of your soul. You couldn’t explain it, but he watched you almost as if you belonged to him. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as goosebumps erupted down your arms. 

Movement had your eyes flicking down to his feet, where Titus was winding himself between Shanks’ brother’s feet and purring loudly. You narrowed your eyes at your horse-cat. How come he liked Shanks’ brother? He didn’t like Shanks but enjoyed the company of his brother? Did they know each other already? The more likely answer was that Titus had lost his mind, you decided. You mentally called him a traitor as your attention shifted back to Shanks’ brother.

“Clover, join us,’ Dragon intoned, waving you closer to him. You walked towards the desk, your every movement followed by Shanks’ brother. As you passed by, his hand almost reached for you before he stopped it, clenching it and lowering it once more. The air in the room was electric, tension growing higher the closer you came to Shanks’ brother. You stood on the left of Dragon behind his desk, facing the two nearly identical men.

It was rude of you, but you couldn’t stop staring at Shanks’ brother. His eyes softened as they met yours, an unidentified deep emotion behind them. He was objectively attractive, but it wasn’t just that. There was something about him that kept your attention fixed on him. 

Shanks’ brother was clearly the better looking of the two, his face framed with long, flame red hair. The more formal attire worked for him; making him seem regal and well refined. His face was a little sunburned and had fewer freckles than Shanks’ but incredibly handsome nonetheless. And as you stared, something clicked in your mind. Your mouth dropped open with a sudden realization. It wasn’t Shanks you remembered from your past. 

It was his brother. 

It was this man who had made love to you in an enormous four poster bed, who had kissed you like he needed you like the air he breathed. This was the man who made sure you orgasmed first, telling you he loved you with every deep thrust and snap of his hips. This was the man who held you afterwards against his chest, his heart beating for you. 

You flushed as the memories came unbidden to your mind, every moment spent in his presence awakening more in you.  Even though you couldn't remember so much as his name, there was some hidden past between you. It was like everything faded away but you and him for a brief moment. Unfortunately, you were brought back to reality by a familiar voice.

“Hey, Clover,” Shanks said, tilting his head to smile at you. “I saw you in the paper,” he said conversationally. You briefly tore your eyes from his brother to address Shanks with a cold look. You hadn’t forgotten that Shanks also knew about your past and hadn’t revealed anything to you. Not only that he was in leagues with Mihawk and probably wanted to take you back to the island. Shanks’ brother’s frown deepened. 

“The goatee doesn’t suit you Shanks,” you replied simply, before your eyes were drawn back to his brother. Shanks frowned. His brother gave a quirk of his lip. 

“It does so. I know Mihawk will like it,” he said defensively, pulling on the short hairs with his fingers. You gave him a quick once over with your eyes and shrugged nonchalantly. Shanks’ eyes darted to the mirror on the wall to look at himself. You smirked, you had hit your target.

“Welp, I’m out. Got a lot of drinking buddies I wanna see,” Shanks said, standing up and brushing himself off. “Good luck with all that,” he said to his brother, his smile returning as he clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by. His brother gave him an icy glare, but said nothing. His attention immediately reverted back to you as soon as Shanks was gone, his fingers curling into a tight fist. 

Your mind was flooded with memories of that night as you looked at one another. There was so much you wanted to know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a single word.  Shanks’ brother continued watching every movement you made. Your heart thumped so hard you were sure he could hear it. Every movement you made felt out of place, like your body had suddenly forgotten how to operate in front of him.

Shanks’ brother walked towards you, his leather boots making no sound on Dragon’s carpeted floor. Your breath caught in your throat as you took an involuntary step back. He stopped in front of you, with Dragon closely watching your interactions. Shanks' brother didn't seem to care, his sole focus was on you. You wished he would touch you, to make you certain that he was real in the moment, but he kept his hand lowered. At last, he spoke, his deep resonant voice making you shiver.

“I am Figarland Shamrock. I am here to collect you."