Eflatun

You were bored, your legs had started to throb from having to stand still for so long, and you didn't like how the Prince kept giving you glances before turning to the King and muttering something to his ear with that stupid grin and reddened cheeks. God, you just wanted to leave already!

Your coworkers, Lines and Eliza, were on opposite sides of the room as well and looked just as done with the ordeal. However, the alliance agreements -or whatever the hell they were talking about now, you had stopped listening ages ago- between the Nagagutsu and the Satsuruzo Kingdom were yet to be finished, so all you could do was... wait.

It was hard not to lock eyes with Prince Tritobu when he made it so clear he was staring at you, as if you were an animal at a zoo on display for his enjoyment. Still, you were adamant about not returning the gesture because you had the feeling that if you did even for a second, he would see it as you reciprocating his feelings and then come after you after this meeting.

Ugh.

You weren't exactly into men with a double chin, stubble around their mouth, and short blond hair, especially so when they were known to have no problem with using their position to "convince" the ladies to sleep with them.

...Honestly, why were most noblemen like this?

You looked at the clock. This meeting started around eight, but you were ordered to come at five, and now it was almost one o'clock. You had not anticipated that this damn thing would take so long, so you had nothing but a piece of toast with a bit of jam and tea for breakfast before leaving.

And while you were starving here, all these pompous assholes were stuffing their greedy mouths with bruschettas, tartelettes, and all the other fancy stuff you didn't even know how to pronounce the names of, let alone taste before.

Being a Marine really did mean getting the short end of the stick, didn't it...

Well, at least you could get something to eat from the market after this was over. If you were lucky, you would maybe even avoid the lunch rush, too. You had gotten this Éclair thing a few days before, it was stuffed with this vanilla cream that was just so good, and you wanted to buy another one before leaving the island again. It was a bit expensive, 450 belli a piece, but definitely worth the price. That, and a plate of fries. The ones they mix spices with, too, and not with that cheap ketchup and mayonnaise that tasted like crap the fast-food restaurants always gave you.

Gosh, just the thought of food made your mouth water...

It was a really beautiful day. The sky was clear and had this beautiful blue to it; the weather was neither cold nor hot enough to make you sweat, with a bit of breeze that carried the smell of the ocean. Well, being close to the docks probably helped, too. But, really, this was not the kind of day you would have wanted to waste inside, watching old men argue out this and that, and you regretted not changing shifts with that one girl you shared a room with when she had asked last weekend; what was her name again? Yoko? This might sound mean, but you hadn't really talked to her much since you knew you were only staying at Nagagutsu for six or so months before being shipped away again anyway. All you knew was that she was one of those legacy hires or something like that. At least, that was what you had heard from the others, gossiping, while you were busy using the loo. You hadn't really been paired to work together thus far, either.

You think you were about to doze off again when the men got up, the way they pushed their seats, scratching on the marble floor, startling you. Oh, so it was finally over, then? You quickly wiped away the little stream of drool that had escaped your lips with the back of your hand before anyone looked at you. You were thankful that no one had seen this, really.

Then, you heard a cough and turned your head. It was Lines, and he motioned for both you and Eliza to leave with a nod of his head. You didn't question him and just did as he instructed, as he got between you two and the rest of the noblemen.

"Let me escort you to your next destination, sir." He said to the King.

Furrari huffed and took another puff from his smoke with his son Tritobu standing behind him, looking flustered. He was probably upset that he couldn't go after you and your coworker since the King hadn't dismissed him yet.

Ah, who would have thought there would be a day you would be glad about all those noble etiquettes and hierarchies?

Lines could really get annoying with his constant arguments and ordering around, but at least he made sure no one tried to harass his subordinates, and you really appreciated that.

"It's finally over!" Eliza whined next to you as you two stood at the left side of the grand door. "My legs are killing me!"

"Tell me about it. My legs are cramping really badly. I want to sit down somewhere and rest a bit!"

"Same!"

Then, you noticed Lieutenant Commander coming your way and saluted him. Fullbody nodded but didn't stop to talk to either of you and entered the meeting room instead. He was probably going to escort the King of Satsuruzo and his spokespeople to the docks, and, of course, take all the credit for a good day's work.

Then, Eliza peeped inside, clearly trying to hear what they were talking about.

"Stop it," you nudged her. "You'll get reprimanded if you get caught."

"Haha! Sorry!" She smiled, scratching the back of her head, while not at all looking apologetic. "Aren't you curious what is going on in there, though?"

You shrugged. "Not really. It won't affect me either way, you know?"

"It will affect the kingdom and its citizens, though."

"No one was screaming or anything," You dismissed her. "So it's probably fine."

"Wow," the girl crossed her arms. "Your work diligence is very admirable, Miss Warrant Officer."

"Oh, shut it. Why do you care so much, anyway? You can ask Lines later if you're that worried."

"He won't tell everything, though!"

"Well...that's the point. You know, to keep the state secrets and all that? He would get into a shit ton of legal trouble, otherwise."

The other pouted but didn't say anything further. Really, she was so nosy sometimes, you were worried that she would find herself in a cell in Marineford for breaking privacy laws or something like that.

The noblemen finally left, following the Lieutenant Commander. You felt as if you could finally breathe freely now that their constant judgmental gaze wasn't on you anymore.

"Good job, lasses," Lines said then and closed the doors to the meeting room. "Everything went really smoothly in there."

"All we did was stand like statues, though." You complained. Yeah, it was an easy job, but when you had joined the Marines, you hadn't exactly been expecting to babysit Kings and Queens all the damn time, rather than doing something actually productive.

"I will take this over running around the battlefield any day," the man said. "Did you ever get shot? That shit is not fun, I can tell you that much, and takes a long while to heal."

"...Well, I guess you're right about that."

"Can we take our break now, then?" Eliza asked, then. "I got up at three to get here on time, you know? I'm exhausted, sir!"

The man looked like he wanted to object, so you quickly agreed, "Yes. We can barely keep our eyes open, and I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!"

"A little break would help greatly, Lieutenant! We won't be too much help if we can't even see straight, right?"

That seemed to do the trick. "Fine..." Lines sighed, as if you two going for lunch was greatly inconveniencing him. "I'll give you two hours, got it?" He looked at his watch. "Be back here at three-fifteen, and then I'll inform you of your next duties for the day."

"Yes, sir!" You said, and the other girl followed your lead. "Thank you, Lieutenant!"

Both of you quickly went down the hallway before the man could change his mind, and started to chat about this and that.

"I think I'll just grab something from the cafeteria and then have a quick nap," Eliza said as she stretched her arms above her. "What about you?"

"I'm not eating that crap they serve there," you said. Just the thought of it made your face contort in disgust. "It's gross, and the plates are always dirty, too. I'll go find something at the town square or something."

"Really?" She tilted her head as if this was the first time she was hearing about this. "I don't think it's that bad."

"Every week, something nasty comes out of the food, be it hair, gravel, or" you almost gagged, "nail."

"...I think that happened only, like, once."

"That's one time too many, Eliza! How the hell does something like that end up in soup, anyway? Clearly, someone did it on purpose!"

The girl shrugged. "Could be worse."

You looked at her, horrified. "What could be worse? Wait-! You know what? I don't want to know, don't tell me."

"Hahaha!" Eliza slapped your back. "Is that why you stack so many instant noodles every time you go to the commissary?"

"Yup. At least I know no one touched that."

"Isn't it unhealthy, though? I thought they caused cancer or something."

"I don't care. I'll risk getting a stomach ulcer than eat that crap they serve us as food here any time."

"Jeesh," The girl said. "By the way! I noticed how casual you were with the Lieutenant today. Are you guys friends?" Then she smirked and nudged your side, "Or...perhaps...a bit more?"

You scoffed. Even the idea of dating Lines was ridiculous. "Don't even start. We took training in the same division back then. He might try to look all respectable and wise, but he's actually a total blockhead. I was actually surprised to see him at Nagagutsu, you know?"

That seemed to get the other girl's attention. She was such a gossip, honestly. "Really?!"

"Oh, yeah. He did stupid shit all the time. Got caught smoking in the toilets, broke a pipe and flooded the bathroom, got punished several times for skipping training, got caught talking to a call lady with a government-issued den den, tried to flirt with the older cadets, fought with other guys all the time... But I guess his attempts to try to turn a new leaf are commendable now that we're actual Marines with pretty good ranks."

"Wow! He really did all that?"

"Oh, he did so much more. It's actually diabolical that he wasn't kicked out for all the stunts he pulled. He would actually die if he knew I told you this, so keep it to yourself, okay?"

She nodded, though you didn't miss the mischievous glint she had in her eyes. "Your secret is safe with me!"

"It better be!" You warned. "Or I'll make sure you go down with me, Eliza! I don't want him to chew me out when I just got a couple of months left here."

She chuckled. "Okay, okay! I swear! I won't imply anything or tease him! At least...until you're relocated again."

Hmm...

You know what? That was ... actually fine. Pretty good, even. You could live with that. Lines had complained about how boring things were here a few times anyway, so this might as well give him that fire he so desperately seemed to want, right?

...And he did sneak into your office and eat your truffles a few weeks ago. Two-thirds of the pack at that, too. Gluttonus bastard. You were still salty about that. They had cost you over 5000 belli at the time!

"....Give me a call when that happens. I want to know how he loses it."

Eliza winked. "No problem, Y/N!" Then, she stopped in her tracks. "Oh, by the way! Since you're going out anyway, could you go to the post office for me? I got a letter a few days ago, but I didn't have the time to go."

"I'm not sure if they would give it to me, but I can try. Do you have your ID?"

She reached into her pocket and handed it to you. "Here."

"Okay. I'll be going, then."

"Thanks! See you later."

"Bye."

And with that, you parted your ways. When you finally left the palace doors and walked towards the gates, the warm sun hit you. It was nice, and you wished you had left your jacket and tie inside. You were too lazy to go back, however, so you just headed towards the town square with them held under your arm instead.

Some civilians greeted you when you walked past them, and a few kids asked if you could help them get their kite back that was stuck on a tree, but other than that, everything was calm. You almost fell and hurt your knee, but it was fine. At least the kids were happy and playing again.

The post office was the first place you went to. There was a long line at the counter, and it took half an hour just to get there. It made you feel a bit of regret for agreeing to help the other, if you were being truthful.

"Good afternoon," you said to the young man. "I'm here to pick up a letter."

"Got any ID?"

You slipped Eliza's ID. "Here."

The guy took it, and you watched as his brows furrowed when he looked at the photo, then you.

"It's my coworker's," you explained. "She couldn't leave her patrol, so I came to collect it for her."

"I see. May I check your ID as well, then, miss? Sorry for the trouble, but this is standard procedure. We don't want mail to get stolen, you know?"

"Sure, no problem." You said. "I don't have my citizens' ID with me, though. Would a Navy-issued Field ID suffice?"

"Of course."

"Here, then."

He took your card next and checked something at the back before returning with the letter in question.

"Here you go, miss," the young man said, and pushed both the IDs and the letter towards you. "I'll need to get your signature before you leave, though."

"Okay."

You didn't really bother with reading the slip and just signed wherever you were pointed at before you were handed a copy. "Have a nice day!" You told the guy and put the IDs back into your pocket.

The envelope was old and yellowish, you noticed, and had a drawing of a little dragon and a koala wearing a big hat at the corner. It was kinda cute.

They all looked like they were drawn by different people, though. Maybe it was from Eliza's siblings or something? You weren't really sure if she had any sisters or brothers, however, and no one had bothered to write their names on it. Did you forget about it, perhaps? Or maybe it was from her friends back from her hometown, that was an option, too.

Whatever. You could ask her later, anyway.

You put the envelope in your pocket, too, carefully as well, but you were sure it would get wrinkled either way. Hopefully, it didn't have any photographs or anything sentimental like that.

Now, you could finally eat...!

You quickly made your way to the small restaurant near the bazaar and looked around until you saw the [Kajika] sign. Oh, you could already smell the sizzling oil and the spices from here! You had already visited this place several times a week in the last two months and were pretty much a regular, so the owner, Mrs. Lucie, recognized you when you got into line and smiled at you.

"Nice to see yo' again, Miss," the woman greeted you. "What can I get yo' today?"

You looked at the menu behind her, "Good afternoon, ma'am, I would like to get some shaker fries with sour cream seasoning, and a bottle of cola, please!"

"Comin' right up! It'll be 1,115 belli."

You pulled out your wallet and gave her a 5000 belli bill, then pocketed the change.

"Here." She handed you your receipt. "You can tell the waitress if it's for here or to go."

"Thank you."

You looked around to see if you could find somewhere to sit, but alas, every table was full. Well, mostly. Some people hogged the chairs with their backpacks and jackets even though they were sitting alone, but you didn't really fancy sitting in front of a stranger, anyway, so you just decided to go to a park or find a bench to eat your meal at the end.

You got your fries in a bag, and they handed you the cola right there.

"And this is something extra for you, miss." The waitress smiled at you and gave you another little package.

"Oh! What's this?"

"An apple pie pocket. The owner told us to give you something a little extra, you know?" She told you. "It's still hot, though, so be careful!"

Jackpot. Now you have something sweet after lunch, and it didn't even cost you a dime! Being a regular was definitely the best.

"Tell her I say thank you. Have a nice day."

You happily left the restaurant and searched for a nearby place to sit while adding the spice to the bag of fries and shaking them. It smelled so good!

You checked your watch. You had forty-five minutes left before you had to return to the palace. "Jeesh," you sighed to yourself. "I hope I don't have to attend another conference today."

A few feet before you, you saw a new shop opening. It was another Nyarmani clothing store. "How can people afford this stuff?" you wondered to yourself as you gazed at the designer garments inside.

Your eyes caught a particular dress that was just your taste. Light blue, short-sleeved, it went a little past the knees. It looked very well-fitted on the mannequin's body, too.

Really, no wonder the guy was known as the Emperor of the Fashion World. He really knew his way with clothing. But, come on, 15,000 belli for one dress? That was almost half your salary!

...Maybe you could afford to get one after you got your New Year's bonus.

....If you had any money extra after you paid the next installment of your trainee loan, that was.

You sighed as you walked away from the store and started to look around to find somewhere to sit instead. Civilians all around you were going about their way, merchants were shouting to get your attention to get you to buy this or that, while kids whose school just ended were running to either play with their friends or home to take a nap.

You were a little unfortunate with your endeavour, and when your stomach growled, you said, "Screw it," and grabbed a handful of fries and stuck them in your mouth. The seasoning got everywhere, of course, and a little voice in your head kept telling you it was too unhygienic to eat with your hands when you spent the whole day touching countless door handles, but you opted to ignore it for now.

Then, when you were just about to take a sip from your cola, your den den started to ring.

"Fu-ugh, what is it now?" You swore under your breath.

Pereperepere....pereperepere....pereperepere....

You reached for the small snail but then stopped. Your hands were dirty. Gosh, you forgot to get some napkins! Damn it!

Pereperepere....pereperepere....pereperepere....

Okay, okay! Uhh... there were no fountains here, but...uh... screw it. You just wiped them onto your jacket and tried not to cringe. Now it smelled like sour cream, but at least your uniform wasn't stained, right?

Pereperepere....pereperepere....pereperepere....

You then grabbed the damn snail and accepted the call.

"Yes? Warrant Officer is speaking."

"Warrant Officer Y/N!" Some rookie screamed from the other side. "We've got a PRT161820 situation!"

Shit, of course it had to be pirates out of all things. You didn't even get to finish your lunch! "Where?!"

"East Coast! They were hiding their vessel as a trader's ship, but someone spotted their Captain! He was wearing a straw hat!"

"You mean that Monkey guy?!" You asked, flabbergasted. "Shit! I didn't think that a rookie like that would actually manage to reach Paradise! How the hell did they even do that with that small ship?"

"No idea! But he and his crew are causing havoc right now! Lieutenant Commander Fullbody already went to catch them, Miss! But the crew separated, and he wants you to get your squad and deal with the little guys while he gets the captain!

"I'm nowhere near the base, damnit!" You swore and tossed away your lunch. And so was your money wasted as well. Gosh, why could you not catch a break? "What's Lieutenant Lines doing right now?"

"He's trying to stop the monster from destroying the town!"

"...A what now?"

"A monster, Miss!" He repeated. "Their raccoon dog ate some pills and turned into a huge creature somehow! It's running around punching buildings!"

Okay, that was not something you'd try to understand right now. "Okay, I'm coming back right now. Please inform SQ11 that they should get ready!"

"Yes, Warrant Officer!"

'Gatcha,' the den den closed its eyes, and you stuffed the little thing back into your pocket as you dashed down the road. The civilians who saw your alarmed face quickly opened up the way for you as well, standing near the stalls to get out of your way, while mumbling to each other what was happening and if they should be worried as well.

You hoped there wouldn't be much to worry about, but, at the end of the day, these were pirates they were facing, and things never went well when those scums came to an island.

You weren't really that familiar with the Strawhat Pirates, but you knew that they had at least one devil-fruit user, their Captain. This meant it would be tricky to fight him. What were his powers again? Something that had to do with rubber, you were sure of it. You should go and check if you have any sea-stone handcuffs and maybe even bullets. Yes, Nagagutsu was a very small kingdom, but, as far as you knew, any island registered under the World Government was given a yearly supply of sea-stone made ammunition exactly for this type of event. And it wasn't like this place got attacked by anyone since your arrival, so there had to be something useful.

Well, you didn't get to think about it much before you were stopped in your tracks and slammed against the wall. The back of your head bounced against the stone, and before you knew it, your head was spinning, and a very sharp and very deadly sword was held against your throat.

Great. Really, just great.

"Let's use this one as a human shield!" The man on top of you said. It took a couple of seconds for your eyes to adjust again, but the one thing you noticed about him was his green hair.

You tried to kick him away from you, but it didn't exactly do anything. It was quite pathetic, really. Thank God that none of your colleagues were here to see it, at least.

"Oh? You got a jarhead already?" Another man appeared from the side. This one was blond, holding a smoke between his lips. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were probably from the Straw Hats' crew, too. "Didn't expect you to-What the hell are you doing, you idiot?! Leave the pretty lady alone!"

...Wait, what?

And just like that, before you could even open your mouth, the swordsman was kicked away from you. With a very violent kick to the head, too, mind you. "What the hell, you stupid cook?! I thought we were going to take a hostage?!"

"How dare you hold a sword against a woman's throat, you piece of shit?! I'll beat your ass to a pulp!"

"I would like to see you try, swirly brow!"

Okay... now you were confused. These two idiots were kicking and cursing each other like they were mortal enemies, and it made you question whether the blond one was actually a pirate or just a civilian who had jumped to help you.

But they did agree on...finding a hostage, right? So, surely, he was, at least, some kind of criminal?

Well, no matter, you had to stop them either way, so you pulled up your gun and raised it. It was the swordsman who noticed it first. "Shit-"

And just as you gave the first warning shot, he sliced the bullet in fucking half as if it were the easiest thing before he got a hold of you again and held your hands against your back. Very roughly, too, mind you!

You tried to break free from him, but it didn't really do much. "Damn it..!"

"Zoro! I told you to stop hurting the lady!" The blond said again and kicked him behind the leg. The man fell on his ass as you got free. "You really don't learn, do you, you piece of shit?"

You quickly grabbed your gun, but it had broken when it fell to the ground.

Great.

"Haa?!" The Zoro guy said. It looked like they butted heads like this often. "What else was I supposed to do? In case you didn't notice, she was trying to shoot us!"

"So what?"

"'So what?'?! What? You have a death wish or something? You should be thanking me, stupid!"

The blond ignored him and rushed towards you, "I apologize for how this oaf treated you, Mademoiselle! It won't happen again! Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"I, uh, I'm fine," you stuttered. "I-"

"I'm so glad to hear this, Madame," he kissed the back of your hand, then, "Ah! How rude of me! I'm Sanji, by the way, at your disposal!"

This was the weirdest encounter you had with a criminal, but fuck it, you could adapt.

"Well, Sanji, you and your friend are under arrest for assault on an officer."

The blond looked at you for a moment, then he just lost it, with heart eyes and everything. "Really, Lady?! Of course, of course, please, do! Please handcuff me and take me with you!"

Okay, he was far too into this, right?

"Oh my God, you cannot be serious right now!" Zoro groaned from behind and actually looked disgusted. "We need to find the others and get the hell out of here!"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," Sanji said, and extended his wrists to you instead. "Go ahead, Miss! Handcuff me! I'll comply with everything!"

Really? He really wasn't going to fight you? That was new.

You actually pulled out them out and got ready to handcuff him.

"Sorry, woman, but that's not happening."

"Wha-!"

Aaand, that damned swordsman cut them into little pieces, too. Was using a sword actually that easy?

"God damn it, Zoro!" The blond huffed. "Just go and leave us alone!"

"Yeah!" You agreed. "If he wants to get arrested, then it is his right to do so; you don't get to boss him around." And if you could at least bring in one criminal in, then, hopefully, Lieutenant Commander would leave you off the hook for this mess. "Why are you even still here?"

"You two cannot be serious right now..."

"Why the hell not? It was my-"

Then, your den den started to scream again. "Warrant Officer Y/N! We got two of the pirates! A long-nosed guy and his orange-haired girlfriend! We're handing them to SQ11. Please get to them and assist them in transferring the criminals to the underground cells!"

Yup, great timing, that one.

"Oh, no!" The blond suddenly roared. "My beautiful Nami is in danger! I need to save her!"

"...Really. So is Usopp, you know?"

"So? A man should be able to save his own ass, you know? It's not like he's defenseless or anything."

"For fuck's sake," the swordsman huffed and quickly grabbed you again.

"Hey-!"

"I told you not to hurt her, Zoro!"

"I'm not hurting her, you stupid cook," the man spat back. "I'm disarming her so that I don't have to hurt her."

"Oh! That's...actually smart of you. I didn't think you could actually think and plan that far."

Zoro looked like he was going to snap back, but then just huffed and shook his head.

He held your wrists in one hand and then broke an iron pipe on the wall with his other, before bending them to make a makeshift pair of handcuffs, practically making you bound to the building like a dog on a leash.

You tugged at the pipe with all you got, but it did not budge. You couldn't even bend your hands with how tight it was, let alone pull them out.

What the fuck? How was this even possible?

And these guys were supposed to be rookies?

...Damn.

"Okay," Zoro said, and wiped his hands for a job well done. "We can leave now."

"Oh, by the way," he reached to you to grab something from your inner pocket.

"H-hey?! What the hell?!"

"I'm taking this."

You looked down.

It was your den den.

"Hell no! You can't take that!"

"Sorry, but I'm not exactly asking now, am I?"

"Zoro! I'm not letting you steal from the pretty lady!"

"Yeah? Then how the hell are we supposed to find Nami and Usopp before they gett their asses killed?"

"Agh...! I hate it when you're right!"

The swordsman rolled his eyes before grabbing the other man. "Let's go!"

"W-Wait, at least let me make sure the lady is fine!" Then, "You're going in the wrong direction, you idiot! You can't even distinguish your left and right?"

"Shut up! You lead the way, then!"

And just like that, those two idiots vanished into one of the side streets. You had more important things to worry about, however, like how to contact the base and tell them that the pirates had gotten a Marine-issued den den into their hands, or how to actually get free from this damned pipe.

You struggled a bit more, and even a few civilians tried to help, but it was clear that you would have to wait for a blacksmith to get you free, and who knew how long that would take with all the commotion going on right now?

[DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO]

Doflamingo was hunched over a large, weathered map, the edges curling as he carefully traced the routes of various islands to figure out which way would be faster to reach Whiteland for their next raid before returning to the hideout. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, and waves crashing against the ship was the only sound in the room for a moment.

You stood at the doorway, watching him. He was so focused on his work that he didn't even notice you at first, but the room felt too still, too quiet, too tempting. You had to mess with it.

"Hey, Doffy," you said, and leaned over the edge of the massive table, your face inching closer to his.

"Hm?" He said. You couldn't tell if he was looking at you or not because of his pink-tinted glasses. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to ask you something," you leaned on him. "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Fufufufu… What kind of question is that?" he chuckled at you, clearly amused by your ridiculous inquiry.

"Come on. Just answer me, Doffy!"

He let out a lazy sigh, then tapped his finger on his chin as if considering it for a moment. "Probably not," he said, then, bluntly. "How am I supposed to love a worm anyway? I would probably step on you without even noticing you wiggling on the ground."

You gasped, half-amused, and half-very-much-offended. "So, you would just abandon me?"

Doflamingo turned his head slightly toward you and raised a brow. "Why? Are you planning on turning into one sometime soon?" he asked.

“Well, maybe a devil fruit user who can turn people into bugs will attack us and turn me into a worm!” you declared, arms crossed as if you were presenting an irrefutable case.

That got another laugh out of the man. "You're really unbelievable..." he said, shaking his head. "But okay, I'll play along. If you become a worm, I'll put you in a jar and make sure you are still alive until we can reverse it."

“And if you can’t?”

The smirk on his lips got wider as he leaned back in his chair and pulled you on his lap. "Then I'll give you to Buffalo to use you as fish bait." He said it as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world. “Might as well get one last use for you.”

“What?!” You gaped at him. Really? Fish bait? What the hell?

He shrugged. "You heard me."

You balled your fist and punched him square in the chest, though it didn’t even make him flinch. He most likely barely felt it, really. "You’re the absolute worst, you know that!"

[DONQUIXOTE ROSINANTE]

Both of you were lazily sprawled across the bed, with sheets tangled around your legs, still half-asleep. You turned onto your side, scooted closer, and flopped your head right onto Rosinante’s chest. If you stood still, you could hear his heartbeat, too.

“Hey, Rosi,” you said, then, voice still ragged with sleep. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

He frowned almost immediately; confused, groggy, and clearly not fully there just yet. It was clear he was still far too sleepy to deal with you, but he should have known better than to go to sleep that late, almost one a.m. in the morning.

“…What?” he mumbled. “A worm?”

You hummed in confirmation, smiling against him and tugging at one of the buttons on his pyjamas.

He blinked a few times and stared up at the ceiling. “Well…” he said, then, rubbing his eyes. “Would you be a cute worm?”

"The cutest!"

“Then yes,” he said, a little smile tugging at his lips. “I would. I’d get you a small pink bow and a big enclosure. With lots of leaves. And flowers. The nice ones.”

"What else?"

“....And, you can’t talk if you’re a worm, right? So I’d mostly talk to you instead. I could read the news for you. Or open the radio when I’m away.” He said, actually putting some thought into it. “Maybe even read books out loud. I don’t think worms get bored easily, but still.”

You smiled. “And you’d make sure no one stepped on me?"

“Of course,” he said immediately. “I’d be very careful, too.”

“And you’d have to carry me around, too. I can’t just stay inside a box all day, you know?"

"Okay, sure," he promised, chuckling. Then, after a beat, he added, “Should I… learn more about worms, then?” He asked. Was he trying to tease you back? Well, it sure wasn't going to work as he had planned. “Do you plan on turning into one soon? If so, I should probably get prepared.”

You laughed quietly and shook your head, then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen anytime soon.” You ruffled his hair playfully.

That finally snapped him fully awake.

“…What do you mean?” he said, confused and even a bit spooked, “…not anytime soon?”

You booped his nose, laughing. He looked so cute when he was agitated. "I said what I said, Rosi."

“So it will happen at some point? Because if it does, I need to know. Are you cursed or something? What kind of worm are we talking about? Earthworm? Caterpillar? Do those count? No, those turn into butterflies, and-!"

[TRAFALGAR D. LAW]

It was close to midnight when you finally gave up trying to ignore the faint flickering light coming from Law’s office. The guy was pulling an all-nighter. Again. You huffed, frustrated, knowing full well what that meant: another exhausting night, followed by him being in an awful mood the next day because of the lack of sleep. And, of course, there was no way you’d let Bepo or anyone else handle him when he was like that. Nope, that responsibility fell squarely on your shoulders, as it always did.

With a sigh, you decided to put an end to this madness before it could even begin, and maybe annoy him in the process. No more sitting around waiting for him to realize he needed rest. Instead, you marched over to the door, threw it open with a dramatic and pretty loud slam, and planted yourself squarely on top of his anatomy book.

You smirked as you looked up at him, feeling oddly proud of your little interruption.

Law barely looked up from his papers, but still acknowledged you. "...What are you doing?" he asked, frowning. He wasn't able to be mad at you, however, even though he couldn't say if it was because he loved you so much or the lack of sleep was finally impairing his judgment.

You leaned back and gave him an exaggerated, innocent shrug. "I wanted to ask you something," you said. "It's very important, Law."

He sighed and tried to pull the book from under you to no avail. Really, what was that oh so important thing he was trying to learn that he couldn't even rest properly? "What is it?"

You leaned in closer, staring into his eyes with all the seriousness you could muster. "Tell me, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

It took a couple of seconds for him to register what you had just said. Then he asked, “…Why would you be a worm? Why not a spider, or a praying mantis, or a centipede?"

"Because," you said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "among the bugs, worms are definitely the cutest."

Law stared at you as if you were stupid, then he tried to figure out where this conversation was going. Then, finally, he gave up. His brain didn't have enough fuel to process what was happening.

"This is idiotic..." He muttered under his breath, but you could tell his attention was still on you, more intrigued than annoyed. Yup, he was truly sleep-deprived. "Hypothetically, if you somehow did turn into a worm, it wouldn't be you anymore. They have short memories, forgetting things after just two to three hours. That means anything that makes you... you, your memories, your likes, your dislikes, your hobbies... they’d be gone. You wouldn’t even be able to communicate with me."

"But my spirit would be in it!"

"We don’t even know if 'spirits' are real or not," he said, matter-of-fact.

"Well, let’s say they do exist in this instance, then!"

Law shook his head and actually gave a little smile! He tried to hide it with his hand, but you had already seen it. "In that case, well, I suppose I could at least make sure you're safe and cared for." He said. "Until you inevitably die, anyway. Worms only live, what, two to seven years?"

You sighed and threw yourself onto his lap before kissing him, "It would be so boring to be your pet," you mumbled then. "But at least that’s better than being left to die, right? Now get your ass to bed and sleep with me, or else I'll keep asking stupid questions until the sun rises."

[MONKEY D. LUFFY]

You had just wanted to relax and have a little moment for yourself when Luffy burst into the bathroom, his usual grin plastered across his face, and without skipping a beat, he shouted, “What are you doing? A bath? I'll take it with you!"

You froze, towel in hand, your face turning red at the unexpected intrusion. “Luffy!” you groaned, “What the hell are you doing? Wait! The water is far too-"

But it was already too late. Luffy, oblivious to your protests, had already stripped off his clothes and, with a reckless, carefree laugh, leapt into the bath with a loud splash.

The water churned, and half of the damn thing splattered out of the bathtub that you would have to clean later, as the sound of Luffy’s surprised yelp echoed throughout the bathroom. “Ow! What the hell?! That’s boiling!" He screamed and scrambled out of the tub as if it had suddenly turned into a fire pit, his face contorted in pain. "Are you trying to cook yourself?!”

You sighed and rubbed your temples. So typical. “That’s why I tried to warn you, Luffy,” you huffed, then tried not to laugh at his misery. “Next time, maybe listen to me, okay?”

He glared at the steam rising from the water, still too hot for his comfort, but you couldn’t help but notice how hilarious he looked, his body already covered in red splotches when he barely spent a few seconds in there.

“You really okay in there?” Luffy asked. “That’s gotta hurt, right?”

You smiled lazily and slumped into the water, the heat surprisingly soothing. “I feel totally fine,” you said, and sank deeper into the steamy warmth. It was just the way you liked it. “I actually wish it could be even hotter!”

Luffy’s eyes widened in disbelief, which didn't happen often, as you would know. “What?! Even hotter? It's already like lava!"

You nodded, grinning wide. “So hot the meat falls off my bones!” you joked.

Luffy didn't seem to like that image as he scrunched his face. "You're really crazy," he said, then his stomach growled. "Now I want something cold to drink! I'll ask Sanji to make us smoothies!"

[PORTGAS D. ACE]

The steam from the shower fogged the mirror, thick and warm. The sound of water hitting the tiles was oddly soothing, too, but your impatience was starting to take over.

"Come on! It'll be fun! And you smell anyway!" you said once again. You had practically begged Ace to join you the whole time, and he was still adamant about not getting in!

"No, I don't!" He countered and crossed his arms. He was being more stubborn than usual for some reason. At this point, you weren't even sure if he was actually this lazy or if his aversion to water had something to do with him being a Devil Fruit user or something.

Well, it didn't really matter. You were determined to get him in here, no matter the reason, and you always got what you wanted.

"Oh, yeah?" You raised a brow. "When was the last time you showered?"

Ace thought for a moment, then looked away, and said, "....Last Tuesday?"

This was truly unbelievable.

"Today is Monday, you skunk!"

"Ugh, okay!" he groaned, finally relenting and following you into the bathroom. Really, someone would think you were going to drown him in there with how he was acting. And if he kept doing this, maybe you would.

Once in, the two of you undressed and stepped into the shower. The water poured down from the overhead, hot as hell, just the way you liked it. And Ace seemed to appreciate it, too, despite his previous endeavour.

After a few minutes, you turned toward him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Ace blinked in surprise, but returned the embrace just the same.

"You’re so needy today," he said, teasing you, but still seemingly curious as well. "Is there anything in particular as to why?"

You grinned up at him. Yes, there absolutely was a reason. "Get hot."

His eyebrows shot up. He probably thought you meant something else. Heh. "What?"

"Come on, get hot!" You said again. "The water is not hot enough! So use your Devil Fruit and get hot!"

"It's already like a sauna in here!" he protested while laughing, and looked at your already red skin. "Do you want to get roasted or something?"

You nodded eagerly. That sounded so good, actually! And was the exact reason you had dragged his ass here. That, and because he was actually about to stink up the ship. "Make me burn, Ace!"

Ace stared at you as though you had actually lost your mind completely, and for a moment, you thought he might actually leave you hanging. But then, he sighed dramatically, as if resigned to his fate, and pulled you closer. "Well, the lady gets what she wants, I guess. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though!"

[SABO]

It was three in the morning, and the sun wasn't even peeking over the horizon yet. The sky was as dark as it would get, and everyone else on the island was still sleeping as far as you were concerned. But you and Sabo had to get ready. The plan was to be on the road before five, and time wasn’t waiting for either of you.

Sabo was already up, his face half-shaven, his usually messy hair even more disheveled than usual. His eyes were heavy, and he looked just as sleepy as you, but thankfully, the determination to get everything packed and organized was enough to keep him moving.

You, however, were already deep in your own morning struggle with exhaustion still tugging at your bones. There was no way you could face the road ahead without a shower first. So, uou hurried into the small bathroom, hopeful to make the most of the little time you had, and cranked up the little amount of hot water the apartment still had.

The sound of the spray was enough to calm you, but the warmth? It was something else entirely. The steam filled the small space, and you were practically melting into the heat. Your eyes closed as you let the water wash you, and you stood there under the scorching stream like you were trying to see if you could boil yourself alive.

A few minutes later, you heard Sabo coming in.

“…Are you trying to burn yourself?” He asked you from the door, both sounding amused and equally concerned. “That can’t be good for you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Sabo,” you grinned at him. “It’s not a real shower if it doesn’t feel like the inside of a volcano!”

[DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO]

The warm water from the shower beat down on you, its heat soothing your aching muscles. The day had been exhausting. The endless back-and-forth with Trebol and Diamante, the constant tension of staying one step ahead of the marines, and that damn bullet wound at your side all combined to totally drain you of every bit of energy you had left for the rest of the month, really.

The ship rocked gently beneath your feet, almost like a cradle, and your eyelids grew heavy. With the steam enveloping you, you almost dozed off, too. Really, you would have slept in the shower if you could, but alas.

And then, you heard the unmistakable sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

Who was that, now?

Before you could even open your eyes, however, you felt Doflamingo's voice as he casually slipped into the shower with you.

“Make some room for me, too."

You grumbled, not bothering to move over, too comfortable in your spot. But he wasn't one to wait for permission. He shoved you aside with a gentle but firm push, though it still did agitate your wound all the same, while his tall frame crowded into the small space with you.

Really, you spend the whole day together, and yet he still couldn't leave your side even for half an hour, evidently.

The second he stepped under the water, however, a hiss escaped his lips.

"Are you trying to figure out what Hell feels like or something?" he cursed, the hot steam already reddening his skin. He tried to force himself to stay under the burning water, and his face was contorted in agony as he shifted awkwardly, trying to get used to the heat.

You couldn’t help yourself and laughed at his pained expression. It suited him very well, in your opinion. "With you, I'm already halfway there anyway," you joked, your tone laced with mock sweetness, just the way he did. Well, you had indeed learned from the best. "Get out if you can't handle it, you big baby."

Instead of stepping back, however, he grabbed the shampoo bottle from the shelf and squirted some into his hand before beginning to lather it into his hair. He was also pouting dramatically as he did so, of course, as if that was somehow going to change anything.

Well, you sure as hell didn't plan to turn the heat down anytime soon.

"I knew you were a witch," he grumbled, his annoyance clearly visible. "Now help me wash my back so I can get out before I look like a half-boiled lobster like you."

[DONQUİXOTE ROSINANTE]

It was winter, and after spending what felt like hours outside, braving the freezing winds, your body was throbbing from the cold. Oh, you hated the winter so much! The snow had piled up around your boots, some even getting in it and wetting your socks, and you could feel every inch of your skin shivering as you opened the door to your little home. The first thing you wanted, no, needed, was a hot shower, that was for sure.

You slipped inside, kicking off your boots by the door so you wouldn't get everywhere wet. As you entered the living room, though, something hit your nose: the smell of cigarettes.

"Rosi?" you called, your voice was slightly muffled by the thick scarf still wrapped around your neck. It was unusual for him to be this early.

Then, there was a sudden sound of something banging in the kitchen, followed by Rosinante’s familiar voice. "Oh! You're home! I was just about to cook!"

Oh, God...

"Please put out the smoke, then," you said, while making your way towards him. "Last time the soup had ashes in it."

Rosinante chuckled sheepishly at the reminder. "Oh, yeah, sorry!" he said, and threw the cigarette into the sink before washing it away.

You sighed. The heat from inside was a welcome relief, but nothing would feel as good as the warm water you were about to step into.

"If you haven't started yet," you called over your shoulder as you made your way toward the bathroom, "we can shower together first. Then I can help you with the cooking." And give yourself the chance to make sure he didn't actually forget it in the oven and burn the house down.

"That sounds good," Rosinante smiled, and walked after you.

"What were you planning on making?"

"Lasagna."

"Do we have all the ingredients? I'm pretty sure we don’t have any cheese left."

"I already got everything we need from the market," he said, puffing his chest out a little, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

"Great," you said, and smiled at him. Then, you slipped into the bathroom, while Rosinante went ahead to fetch some towels.

The bathroom was warm, and you quickly undressed, placing your hair tie next to the sink. You stepped into the shower and turned the water on to the perfect temperature; almost boiling, just the way you liked it.

The steam instantly surrounded you, and the water stung at first, but then, it felt incredible, and you let out a soft sigh, relaxing under the cascade of warmth.

A few moments later, Rosinante appeared in the doorway, towels in hand, looking like he was trying to move quickly without slipping on the floor and cracking his head open. Again. He set the towels down on the toilet, undressed, and tossed both of your dirty clothes in the laundry basket. Then he joined you in the shower.

The moment he stepped in, however, you heard him hiss in pain, and his body jerked as though the heat had taken him by surprise. You turned to look at him, concerned.

"You okay?" you asked.

Rosinante smiled weakly, but his cheeks were already flushed, and he seemed to be struggling more than he wanted to admit.

"Y-Yeah...!" he stammered, as if you couldn't see how his skin had gotten red under the water, like he was barely able to tolerate it.

You decided to show him some pity.

"Would you like me to turn the heat down a little?"

"No, no!" he said quickly. "It’s fine, keep it as it is!"

You gave him a dubious look. "Are you sure? You look like you're getting tortured."

"I’m really fine...!" he insisted, his voice a little too high. To prove his point, he stepped further into the hot stream of water, the spray hitting his back directly. His back arched slightly under the pressure, however, and you saw the muscles tense in discomfort.

Really, this man...

"I'll just turn it down, wait a minute."

"No, I’m-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Shut it, love. It’s clear you’re suffering."

Rosinante kept insisting that it was fine, but you reached for the knob and turned the water down a few degrees regardless. The cold water came seconds later, cooling the heat. You didn't really enjoy it when the shower was barely warm like this, but you liked it even less to see Rosinante in so much pain.

"Better?"

He huffed, wrapped his hands around your back, and pulled you close. You noticed that despite the cooler water, his ears were still a bit flushed. "...Yeah."

[TRAFALGAR D. WATER]

It was one of those late nights where you just couldn’t sleep, restless and tossing around in your bed. And so, in true you fashion, you decided the best solution was to sneak out for a quick shower.

You tiptoed through the dark hallways of the ship, careful not to wake anyone up, while you tried your best not to hit anything on your way. You saw that Law was asleep on his desk again, surrounded by his damn medical books, that damn workaholic. Well, at least it benefited you this time.

You made it to the bathroom soon after and closed the door behind you with a quiet click. Quickly, you undressed and then stepped into the shower, letting the hot water rush over your body. A sigh escaped you as the heat melted away the tension in you. Really, this felt like heaven.

For a few minutes, you closed your eyes and let the steam rise and the water gush down your back. Warm water made you always so sleepy, too...

And then....

Knock knock.

You froze. It couldn’t be, no way, he had to be still sleeping! But sure enough, the familiar, impatient voice floated through the door.

"Hey, (Y/N), what are you doing?" Law asked, his tone suspicious.

You cursed under your breath and pressed a hand to your forehead. How did he always know? It was like he had an alarm that tracked your every move, warning him, no matter how stealthy you tried to be.

"Nothing!" you quickly shouted, and tried to drown out the sound of the water with your voice while twisting the knob to lower the water pressure. Maybe that would buy you a few more minutes of peace.

"Don't lie to me," Law huffed. If you closed your eyes, you could already imagine the frown on his face, ready to scold you. At this point, he was going to get wrinkles before even turning fifty. "You're boiling yourself there again, aren't you?"

It’s not that hot this time!" you called back, trying to sound convincing. "And I just got in!"

"You always say that. I hope you're telling the truth for your own sake. Because if you faint there again, I won’t be dragging you out of there!"

"It’s fine, Law, really! And that only happened once anyway!"

"And that's one time too many!"

"Well," you said, voice sweet and teasing, "I love you too!"

[MONKEY D. LUFFY]

You had been walking alongside Luffy, enjoying the day as you sailed toward the next island, when a thought abruptly popped into your head.

"Hey, Luffy!" you said, and jumped on him from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck in a surprise attack.

"Hm?" Luffy responded. He tilted his head back, and his straw hat fell off his head before landing on the deck with a soft thud. "What is it?"

You pulled back slightly, resting your chin on his shoulder, and asked, "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"A worm?" he repeated, his face scrunching up in a cute little frown as he thought about it for a moment. Then, he grinned as if the answer was the most obvious thing. "Of course! I love bugs! They're awesome!"

"Even if I couldn't talk anymore?" you asked. "I would look like any other ordinary worm, you know? There wouldn't be anything special about me anymore."

Luffy shrugged, "Doesn't matter. I would know it's you anyway."

[PORTGAS D. ACE]

You saw that Ace had leaned against the railing, staring out at the horizon, lost in thought, as the ship swayed gently beneath your feet. It was a peaceful moment, one he often enjoyed when the chaos of the crew’s antics and the endless journey seemed to slow down, even if just for a second.

But peace didn’t last long when you were around.

You strolled over and approached him from behind. Ace didn’t notice you at first, but the moment you spoke, his head turned, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Hey, Ace," you said, leaning casually on the railing beside him and looking up to meet his gaze. "What are you doing?"

"Ah, nothing," he said. "What about you?"

You smiled at him before leaning in and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, resting your head against his chest. "I wanted to ask you something, actually."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Ace blinked, then he both smiled and frowned at the same time, as if he could not decide what kind of reaction he wanted to give just yet.

“A worm?” he repeated. “What kinda question is that?”

You shrugged, still smiling. Honestly, he should have expected you would ask something like this since he knew how weird you were. And this question was indeed a classic, "I just want to know if you would still love me if I was a squirmy, wiggly little worm, that's all."

Ace then finally let out a laugh and shook his head. "Gosh, really..." he muttered, then he leaned down to kiss your forehead. His lips felt hot against your skin thanks to his Devil Fruit. "You think I wouldn’t?"

Oh, he looked so charming with that smile and eyes that glinted with happiness.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he repeated, and kissed you again. "I would carry you in my shirt’s pocket so we would always be together, too!"

You burst out laughing. "Nice answer!""

[SABO]

The room was dim except for the soft glow of the desk lamp and the constant blink of the radio’s indicator light. Static was the only noise around you, broken only by the occasional crackle that might turn into an incoming call you were waiting for from Dragon.

Sabo was stretched out in the hammock strung across the corner of the room, one arm dangling loose, his hat tipped low over his face to block even the little light you had. He looked dangerously close to falling asleep despite the fact that he technically wasn’t supposed to.

You, on the other hand, were wide awake. It was only expected after your fifth cup of coffee, after all.

You sat at the desk beside the radio, elbows resting near the receiver, nursing another coffee between your hands. It had already gone lukewarm, but you drank it anyway. You had an inkling feeling that after this many cups, your body didn't even know what to do with all this caffeine anymore, and you had a slight ache in your stomach, too. But long shifts always felt longer when nothing happened, and when nothing happened, bothering Sabo was practically a civic duty.

You glanced over at him, lips already twitching.

Yeah. This night needed a bit of disturbance, that was all. Why did he get to sleep when you didn't, anyway?

“Sabo,” you called sweetly.

“...Huh?” he huffed, shifting in the hammock. He dragged the brim of his hat up just enough to peer at you with one tired eye. His hair was a mess, and his voice was rough with half-sleep. You kinda liked the look. “What…? What’s going on?” He yawned. “How late is it?”

You lifted your cup, took a slow and very loud sip, and met his gaze with the most serious expression you could manage.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Then, there was a loonnnnng silence.

Sabo let out a groan and dropped his hat back over his face. “Really…” he muttered, sounding like a man questioning every decision that led him here. At least, there with you.

You waited, rocking slightly in your chair. You had all the time in the world, after all. Well, until Dragon finally managed to give you a call, that is.

He sighed. “Yes,” he said, then. “I would love you if you were a worm. I would love you if you were a snake. I would love you if you were a frog. I’d love you in any shape or form.”

He shifted, then, and tried to get comfortable again. “Now,” he said, “may I sleep?”

You laughed and nodded. “Yes, you may,” you said generously. Then, you added. “Well… until I find something else to ask, that is.”

SIR CROCODILE

It was late evening, and you were sprawled on the bed with Crocodile by your side as you listened to the rain.

He was reading the news with a cigar resting between his lips, smoke curling lazily into the dim light of the room. His attention was fixed on whatever article he had found interesting, and his eyes scanned the lines as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Something about the World Government had made the front page, too, bold and dramatic, but you didn’t bother trying to follow it. It was most likely some propaganda, anyway.

The scent of his cigar drifted toward you. Once, you had hated it; it had been too bitter and sharp for your nose back then. But now, it settled around you like something familiar, something that gave you comfort. It meant he was here, after all, somewhere near you if not next to you.

You turned onto your side and looked at him.

For a moment, you just watched. You had not seen him the whole day, after all, and despite seeing each other every evening, the time felt too little, too short. Maybe it was time for a date? When was the last time you spent quality time together? If memory served right...before Cross Guild, which meant at least six months. Yeah, you should probably bring that up at breakfast.

Crocodile didn’t look at you, but you knew he noticed your gaze. He always did.

“What is it?” he asked, voice low, uninterested on the surface but attentive underneath.

You shrugged slightly and brushed your fingers against the soft fabric of his nightshirt before resting them on his chest.

“Just thinking how lucky I am to have you.” You smiled and shifted closer, letting your head rest against him. He was always so warm. Was it because of his Devil Fruit, perhaps? “I love you very much, you know?”

He scoffed when he heard that. It was a quiet, dismissive sound, like you’d said something foolish. Then, he turned the page of his newspaper as if nothing had happened without saying anything in return.

You didn't mind, of course. You were very well aware of how bad he was at verbalizing his feelings from the very beginning of the relationship. Communication was definitely not his strongest suit.

So you stayed where you were, hand resting over his heartbeat, listening to the faint rustle of paper and the slow burn of his cigar with your eyes closed and ready to fall asleep.

Minutes passed, and you had almost dozed off. Then, without a word, the paper lowered, and Crocodile shifted a bit. The cigar was extinguished and set aside without burning his fingers, and he got ready to sleep as well.

You moved to the side to let him get more comfortable in the bed, a bit cranky, but the arm that came around you made up for that, as you felt his huge, rough hand resting on your back.

Yes, you thought, this was definitely the best part of your day.

BUGGY THE CLOWN

You were in the shower while Buggy removed his makeup back in your shared bedroom.

It had been a long, exhausting day: running around Karai Bari, dealing with endless errands, messages, and whatever chaos came with being tied to something as big as the Cross Guild was not an easy task. At some point, piracy had stopped feeling like freedom and started feeling like… an assistant job.

You didn't really know how you really felt about this, exactly, but...that was something you would have to think about another day.

You sighed and leaned your forehead briefly against the cool tile, letting the water run over you. The warmth felt so nice.

You didn’t bother putting on much after: just one of Buggy’s oversized sweaters that nearly swallowed you whole. It still carried a faint trace of his usual scent: powder, smoke, and something oddly artificial and sweet. It was a weird mix, to say the least, but something you had grown to love.

You dried your hair quickly, very half-heartedly, not really caring if it was still damp, and stepped into the bedroom.

The first thing your eyes immediately landed on was the dressing table, and the total mess Buggy had left.

Wet wipes tossed aside, smudges of red and white, lipstick caps left open, stains scattered like evidence of a small disaster.

You sighed.

Morning problem, you decided then, seconds later. You’d scold him to clean his shit in the morning, after your cup of coffee.

Buggy was already in bed when you turned your attention back, leaning over the side as he rummaged through a drawer, muttering something under his breath. He was probably searching for his sleeping mask.

The room felt colder than the bathroom, but the moment you slipped under the blanket, the warmth wrapped around you instantly, and it was both heavy and comforting.

He noticed you then, and without wasting much time, one of his hands detached and stretched toward the lamp, clicking the light off with a soft snap. The room fell into darkness, lit only faintly by whatever slipped through the curtains of the tent's makeshift window.

You shifted closer and pressed against his side. You just loved snuggling with your clown while sleeping.

“I’m really lucky to have you, aren’t I…?” you mumbled, and yawned as your head hit the pillow.

Buggy froze, then, completely still under your arms, his exhaustion from seconds ago gone.

Then—

“W-Wha?! I-I mean…!” He stuttered, jerking upright, face heating instantly. Even in the dark, you could see it, the way his nose lit up like a little red Christmas light. You had to hold in your laughter after that, to not ruin the moment. Did your little praise delight him that much? “Of course you are! You’ve got GREAT taste, honey bunny! Not everyone can earn the Great Buggy’s affection, you know?!”

You decided to indulge him, then, like the attention junkie that he was. "Oh, yeah? I must be really lucky then."

His puffed his chest with pride and nodded. “Stick with me, and you’ll be even luckier..! I'M the best of the best, and I get only the best of the best for my darling, too!"

Then, he pulled you close, so close you could barely breathe, and then came the kisses. Kisses everywhere! Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone: every part of you that his red-tinted lips could reach! They were all quick, exaggerated, and over-the-top like everything he did as well.

“Buggy—!” you burst into laughter, squirming as you tried to push him away. “Stop! It tickles!”

“Gyahahaha! You started it! How can I fall asleep now when I feel so great?!"

DRACULE MIHAWK

Mihawk was already in bed when you entered, half-reclined against the headboard, a book open in one hand and a glass of wine resting on the drawer beside him when you found him.

The room was quiet, comfortably so. No chaos, no noise, all of that was left behind at the other side of the curtain that was supposed to be the tent's door. Now, all you could hear was just the faint rustle of pages turning and the occasional clink of glass when he reached for his drink as the clown's circus became a background noise.

You didn't call out to him, didn't need to, and instead, just slipped under the blanket and crawled closer, emerging at his side like a little caterpillar.

Mihawk didn't look at you, but he did notice you, and without a word, he shifted one of his arms and settled it around you.

This was his way of greeting you. He preferred to stay silent after getting so overstimulated the whole day while dealing with all the Cross Guild nonsense.

This had made holding the book slightly awkward, however, so you adjusted and pressed yourself closer to him, fitting yourself into his side so the book could rest more comfortably between his hands.

You didn't ask what he was reading; you never did. It was always something dense, something impossibly dry, anyway; pages filled with ideas that felt like they belonged to another century, with a lexicon so outdated that most couldn't even understand a word in the sentence, let alone the whole thing. Something only he, or perhaps a ninety-year-old philosopher, could truly enjoy, and made you want to pull out your own ears whenever he started to lecture you about it.

But that didn't matter. What did matter was this: the way his chest felt against your cheeks as he breathed, the way he absentmindedly caressed your back, and the slow, rhythmic thud of his heart against your ear.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the moment.

This was the best feeling in the world, wasn't it?

“I’m so lucky to have you, really,” you sighed softly, then, and pulled the blanket a little higher. “The best partner ever.”

Mihawk didn't react at first. Of course, he didn't, but he did look thoughtful. Maybe a bit more than usual, even.

Then, he said, "...Is that so?" and turned another page.

You wondered what was going through his overthinking head as the wind kept trying to push its way into the tent. It was not at all easy for him, these types of verbal affections.

Minutes passed.

Five.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Then, it was already half an hour.

At some point, you wondered if he would give a proper answer at all. Maybe he’d simply let the moment settle and move on, like he often did. Maybe he’d assume it didn’t need a response, since you already knew how much he loved you anyway.

Yeah, that was it, wasn't it?

Knowing that he would most likely keep reading until he finished the whole thing, you made yourself comfortable and tried to fall asleep. And that took no time at all. You were already drifting since you had finished all your tasks, your thoughts softening at the edges when you rested your head on the pillow and your mind ready to let the dreams start after such a tiring day when the man said—

You have worked really hard to earn your place at the RDA. Not just hard, relentless. The kind of effort that did not let you sleep, burned through your patience with every question that you got wrong, and left ink stains permanently etched into the sides of your fingers. You had carved your way here, one exam, one paper, one sleepless night at a time, and many, many nights crying out of desperation and exhaustion.

You, like most from your generation, had grown up with the documentaries about Pandora, grainy at first, then sharper as the years passed, where they showed you this incredible planet far away. A world full of creatures that looked like they had been pulled from fantasies too vivid to be real, with vegetation so luminous and alien that Earth felt dull in comparison. Forests that breathed. Mountains that floated. A sky filled with stars.

It was like a dream come true, really.

You were captivated by that world and the Na'vi since you were a child. While other kids decorated their rooms with celebrities, superheroes, or athletes, your walls were layered with clipped photographs of bioluminescent forests, ikrans mid-flight, and tall, blue figures standing in the forest, curiously staring back at the camera that filmed them.

Your parents fed into your obsession, gently at first, then wholeheartedly once they realized that it was not going to leave any time soon. They bought every publication they could find, sat with you through late-night broadcasts, and listened as you recited facts you had memorized.

This meant that from an early age, in your sixth grade, after a long conversation with your biology teacher who had leaned forward with the same spark in her eyes as you did, you had decided: you would go to Pandora, one way or the other.

Not if. Not maybe. You would find a way to board one of the RDA’s ships and see it for yourself.

This meant lots and lots of studying, of course. So much so, in fact, you would get frequent nosebleeds, headaches, and a constant back pain, your body protesting the hours you forced it to endure. You learned to ignore them. You learned to press a tissue to your nose with one hand, stretch a bit, and keep writing with the other.

You barely had a social life whatsoever to speak of at the end of your senior year, you were never even invited to a single party, but it was worth it. You didn't need the whole school to be your friends anyway; just a couple of nerds who had their own obsessions were more than enough.

RDA had many different operations that you could have chosen from: private military, research, construction, and mining, for example. It was a massive, sprawling machine of an organization at that point with thousands of workers. But the one you had set your eyes on was SciOps.

They were different. They weren’t just there to extract resources. They were there to understand.

SciOps was made up of scientists, researchers, and thinkers. They studied Pandora, documented it, and tried to bridge the impossible gap between human and Na’vi while also looking into whether the vegetation there could survive back at home as well. And most importantly, they handled the AVTR Program.

Yes. That program that lets you walk among the Na’vi.

The program meant you wouldn’t just observe Pandora from behind a glass, you would be part of it.

At first, you had thought about Xenobiology. It seemed like the obvious path; catalog the creatures, understand the ecosystems, be among the first to name the unknown... But somewhere in your high school years, something in your goals shifted.

It happened unexpectedly, really: A recorded interview between the Tsahik and Dr Richard Carter was the reason. A linguist speaking Na’vi fluently, the sounds flowing like music to your ears, like something alive.

You replayed it again. And again. And again.

You realized then that you didn’t just want to study Pandora. You wanted to speak to it. To understand the Na’vi not as subjects, but as people. So your plan shifted and went towards Xenolinguistics instead.

There were just a few fields that the RDA accepted for the program: Exoanthropology, Neuroscience, Biochemistry, and Ecology were just a few of them. Finding a university that actually gave classes on xenolinguistics was even rarer. And even then, the bar was brutally high. A master’s degree at a minimum. A PhD if you wanted any real say in research.

And even after all of that…nothing was guaranteed. Not really. You knew this. Everyone knew this. There were thousands like you, brilliant, driven, obsessed, competing for those handful of positions. People who had sacrificed just as much, maybe more.

Still, you didn't stop. Couldn't, really. Because somewhere between the first photograph you taped to your wall and the last application you submitted, this stopped being a dream and turned into your life's purpose. You had spent all of your formative years on this path. What else could you do if you were to give up?

...Honestly? You did not even want to entertain that idea. It was far too painful.

You applied five times before they called you for an interview.

Five.

Five years of doing this again and again.

Each rejection had a polite but impersonal tone. "We regret to inform you..." this and that, that left you feeling hollow until the words lost their sting and became something expected.

Not that this ever stopped you.

It made sense, really. If it were that easy to get in, more people would have tried it, rather than seeing it as something impossible, like trying to be the President of the United States. At least they had the decency to actually tell you that you didn't get the job, rather than letting you keep dreaming until the end.

The fifth application had felt different when you sent it. Not hopeful, no, but more...confident? More prepared? Like placing the final piece in a structure you had spent years building after failing again and again and figuring things out, if that made sense.

Then, somehow…They called you.

You almost choked on your dinner when the e-mail came.

The interview was a disaster. At least, that’s what you had thought afterward.

You stuttered. You forgot key terms you had repeated a hundred times before. Your hands trembled so badly you had to clasp them together under the table, nails digging into your skin just to stay still. Your shirt clung to your back, damp with sweat, and every question felt like it came half a second too fast.

You watched their faces. More like glanced, really, because you failed miserably at keeping eye contact. They were measured, neutral, and almost impossible to read, however.

And when it was over, you walked out already bracing yourself for the next rejection.

You had fucked it up.

Again.

Your only consolation was that at least now you knew how they interviewed people and could prepare for the next attempt better, and maybe, after a few more years, they would actually consider hiring you.

Then, the e-mail came three days later.

It wasn't the rejection that you had been waiting for.

Not even close.

They asked you to confirm a date; to come in, to tour the base, and to discuss your options within the company. To talk about your future in the RDA.

Your future.

You read it once.

Then twice.

Then a third time.

Then a fourth.

Then a fifth.

Then you screamed for your mom to come and check just to make sure your eyes weren’t playing some cruel trick on you. Then your mom called for your dad to see it, too.

Then you broke. You actually sobbed: Shoulders shaking, breath hitching, nose dripping with snot and years of pressure cracking all at once as you laughed and cried in the same breath. Your parents joined you, too, and congratulated you through their own cries.

That night, you celebrated the only way that made sense: Cheap fast food, greasy fingers, and smiles so wide they hurt with your mom, dad, and a few friends who rushed to come to your apartment the moment you told them the good news.

It tasted better than anything you've ever had.

Reality, however, came quickly.

At the job, during that tour, you learned something that no documentary had really mentioned in great detail because it was probably too boring for the standard viewer: the journey. One trip to Pandora took around twelve to twenty years.

And this didn't even include the time you would spend there.

Twelve to twenty years to get there and back.

And what did that mean in the long run?

You wouldn’t see your family, friends, or anyone for probably more than two decades.

Your chest tightened.

Your father was already in his seventies.

At that point—

You swallowed hard.

You would never see him again.

The thought rooted itself in your mind and followed you home. It sat with you at the dinner table, even. You thought about it every awake moment and every possible scenario.

And finally, you said it out loud.

“I don’t think I can go.”

The silence that followed was quick, and your parents stared at you like you had said something incomprehensible, as if you had lost your damn mind, even.

How could you even think that? After everything you had worked for? After all those years, all those sacrifices—not just theirs, but yours? You couldn’t just put your life on hold for them!

...Is what they kept saying.

That wasn’t love.

That was fear.

You had to go.

You had to cut the cord and live your own life.

Your father’s voice, older but no less firm, cut through everything else.

“Do you think we raised you to stay?” he asked. “For you to be our caretakers? You know neither of us wants that. This is your life! Do what you want with it, and see that damn planet!"

Your mother’s eyes were wet, too, but she still smiled at you, nodding, trying to be encouraging, "Your dream is right there,” she said. “We’re not going to be the reason you turn away from it, especially when you are this close to getting it."

They kept insisting. Arguing. Pushing. Talking your ear out every moment they could find.

And in the end…You went back.

The next phase began before you ever saw a ship.

Neural Link Training.

Six months minimum, the paper said.

It sounded manageable when they explained it. After years of studying, learning, reading, and years of lessons, you thought it would be a piece of cake.

It was anything but.

You learned about link-pod acclimation: how your mind would interface with something that wasn’t your body. Bi-directional sensory calibration: how your brain would process input that didn’t match human norms. Motor synchronization: how to move a form that was taller, stronger, and built entirely differently.

A Na’vi body was something else, after all. It had a tail for balance, long legs, three fingers, bones reinforced with a type of naturally occurring carbon fiber and a totally different center of gravity.

Even your senses would shift: your smell sharper, your hearing wider, your vision tuned to a spectrum you had never experienced.

It wasn’t just learning. It was unlearning yourself and your body.

And that wasn’t all. They flooded you with knowledge. Books stacked higher than your old school desks: Pandoran ecosystems, neuro-linked fauna, toxicology reports filled with things that could kill you in seconds if you made a single mistake. You memorized plant structures, animal behaviors, and atmospheric compositions until it felt like your brain was about to melt out of your ears.

Every page was a reminder: Pandora was as deadly as it was beautiful.

Then came survival training. Everyone had to know basic self-defense, and most importantly, how to keep their mask on their face if they didn't want to suffocate.

Pandoran navigation was a must, too, and so was learning how to read an environment that didn't follow Earth's logic.

Zero-pressure breach response was a thing, too, and what to do when everything around you tried to eat you at once.

Atmospheric suit training was another thing because how to move, how to function, how not to panic when your own breath sounded too loud inside your helmet was important when you floated in space.

Even with all that knowledge, you knew better than to think that you could even last half a day outside the base. At least, as a human.

There were some other trainees with you, too. You learned their names slowly, between lectures and drills, or whenever you got the time. Some were like you: bright-eyed, driven by something that bordered on obsession. Others were more practical, more grounded. A few… You weren’t entirely sure why they were there at all.

Together, you studied remote field communication and how to relay information across interference-heavy terrain without panicking. You practiced live environment sampling, hands steady as you handled materials that, even in simulation, were treated like they could melt through your gloves if you got careless.

They split you into groups after that. Small ones, too. They put you into compact living quarters designed to mimic long-haul transit and isolated base conditions. At first, it didn’t seem so bad: tight, sure, but manageable.

Then the days stretched, and the air tasted recycled in a way that clung to your lungs and the back of your throat. It was not at all nice, to say the least. The worst part was the lack of privacy. You never thought you were a claustrophobic person, but even you barely managed to handle the tension.

This phase mattered more than most people realized. Because if you couldn’t handle this, the confinement, the isolation, the constant presence of others with nowhere to escape—

You couldn't just say "I give up! Send me back home, please!"

Not because they were cruel or anything, but because they couldn’t. They couldn’t afford it. That would be millions of wasted dollars that they would have to pay from their own pockets.

The RDA didn’t invest years of training, resources, and manpower just to turn around halfway through because someone panicked too late. If you broke, it had to happen here, where the cost was still acceptable. Not out there, when you were light-years away.

Twenty-two of the fifty trainees left at that point.

Some quietly.

Some... not as much.

One packed their things in the middle of the night and was gone by morning. Another snapped during a routine check-in, voice cracking as they demanded to get out. A few tried to push through and failed harder because of it.

You watched them go and felt this, kinda arrogant, you could admit, satisfaction that, unlike them, you had managed not to crack. You weren't going to lie to yourself, of course. There were a few close calls, nights when the walls felt too close, when your heartbeat wouldn’t slow, when the idea of spending years like this made your throat tighten more than you would have liked, but still, you were far too deep in this to just give up.

After that, and only after that, they trusted you with something more.

Unsupervised link time.

It felt like a threshold. A line you had been crawling toward for months. By then, you had logged seven hundred and fifty-two hours in training. You had completed over twenty Pandora field simulations, each one designed to break a different part of you, your awareness, your reaction time, your judgment.

You had an eighty-seven percent success rate. Not perfect, but pretty good.

Most of your supervisors liked you as well. You knew that, not because they said it outright, but because of the way they watched you. The way they gave feedback. The way they trusted you just a little more each time.

You were eager. You listened. You adapted. Yes, you questioned them from time to time, but you were ready to learn.

Apparently, that was rarer than it should have been.

Some of your future coworkers, the ones who made it this far, struggled with that. Too stubborn. Too sure of themselves. Too unwilling to adjust.

Pandora didn’t tolerate that, and neither did the program.

The last step came sooner than you expected. The RDA-approved safety and ethics exam, they said. “Standards,” they called it. You weren’t sure that word meant the same thing here as it did back home.

The questions were… simple.

Too simple.

Blunt, even, for a lack of a better word.

[What would you do if you came into contact with the natives of the planet?

A) Run.

B) Shoot.

C) Try to talk.

E) All of the above.]

They probably did this for formality's sake and not because they wanted their workers to actually give a damn about Pandora itself, because why else would questions look like they were written by a very poorly made AI? It probably helped that RDA was a non-governmental organization, and that the UN hadn't managed to put any regulations on interstellar resource harvesting just yet, so they could just half-ass the moral considerations of going to a different planet for now.

You still aced the test, though.

When you were told that you were finally ready to leave, and that all that remained was preparing you for the journey, it became the happiest and scariest day of your life.

You didn't even understand it at first, "...Ready to leave? Really?"

You had spent years chasing that sentence, let it shape your entire existence around it. And now that it was real, it didn’t feel like triumph alone. It felt like standing at the edge of something vast.

Preparation, it turned out, wasn’t just packing your life into a few approved containers and signing the last of the contracts.

They took DNA samples from you first. Blood, too, vials upon vials. Your genetic material would be paired with a Na’vi DNA sample already in their possession. From that, they would create an embryo, an Avatar. It would grow during transit, developing in sync with your journey so that, by the time you arrived…

It would be ready, just for you.

You were allowed to observe part of the process. Not all of it, there were still doors you weren’t cleared to pass, but enough to understand the scale of what was happening.

You watched as operators conducted physical screenings. Genome sequencing followed; your cells were mapped, analyzed, compared against something that was never meant to align with you.

The Na’vi genome was… different. Very different, at that.

Ninety-nine percent of trainee intake failed at this stage alone. That was what they told you.

The first attempt, as everyone had expected, failed.

Then another.

And another.

Until the thirty-seven attempts, that was.

You sat through each one, trying not to let your thoughts spiral every time a technician quietly shook their head or adjusted something on the screen, fearing that maybe this would be the reason you would have to give up on your dream, the only thing you could not work for.

Thirty-seven times before they finally got a viable match.

Thirty-seven times before someone said, “We’ve got it.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding for days, then.

You really didn’t want to know how much that alone had cost them. No wonder it was this hard to get into the AVTR Program.

Eventually, they brought you and the remaining trainees into the genetics lab. It was colder than the rest of the facility. They explained everything as they worked: chromosomal integration, growth acceleration, stability checks, and all the other things they had to do...

You tried to follow. You really did. But your attention kept drifting to the—

Vial.

It sat in front of you, suspended in a controlled environment, barely bigger than your index finger: thinner, even. Inside, something microscopic had already begun.

Something that was yours. And not yours at all.

You leaned closer, eyes tracing the faint shimmer within the fluid, trying to comprehend what you were looking at.

This.

This tiny, fragile thing—

Barely the size of a penny—

Would be ten feet tall the next time you saw it. Limbs long and strong.

Lungs that could breathe Pandora’s air. Eyes that could see what yours never could. It would float in its amniotic tank, nearly fully formed by the time you arrived. Not quite an adult, but close enough to step into the world you had spent your entire life dreaming about.

It was amazing, wasn't it?

After that brief trip, they didn’t give you much time to process anything before moving you along. The next stop was the Medical Bay, and the preparation for cryosleep sounded simple when they explained it the first time.

A medically induced coma.

Your body cooled.

Maintained at extremely low temperatures for the duration of the journey.

Some of the others compared it to hibernation.

You didn’t like that.

Hibernation sounded… natural.

This wasn’t. Far from it, actually.

You preferred to think of it as entering “tardigrade mode” like those microscopic creatures that could dry out, freeze, survive the vacuum of space, and then come back like nothing had happened.

Except you weren’t a tardigrade.

And there was no guarantee you’d come back unchanged.

The preparation itself was extensive. There were endless medical evaluations and scans that mapped you down to the smallest detail. Blood tests, again. Monitors tracking your heart, your lungs, and your brain activity, too.

They adjusted your diet. Very strictly, at that. What you ate. When you ate. How much you drank. Supplements added. Others removed. Even your medication intake was reviewed and modified with a precision that made it clear: nothing about this process allowed for randomness.

You were told to lose a few pounds, too.

And then there was the part they explained a little too casually, like they didn't want you to question it too much. It was the waking-up part.

They didn’t “wake” you. Not really.

They thawed you.

Gradually rewarming your body. Bringing you back from a state where everything inside you had been slowed to the brink of stillness.

Like defrosting a frozen chicken.

The comparison sat in your stomach in a way you couldn’t quite ignore.

Because it wasn’t just the imagery. It was what came with it.

Intracellular ice crystals.

They explained it very well. As temperatures dropped, water inside your cells could crystallize, expanding in ways that damaged structures that weren’t meant to withstand it.

Irreparable cell damage.

Increased cancer risk.

Muscle degradation.

You stared at them while they said it, waiting for the part where they reassured you that this wouldn't happen, of course. Surely. Right?

They said they had “solved” it by giving you low doses of microwave radiation, used during the cooling process to agitate water molecules, preventing crystal formation, and reducing damage.

It sounded… clever.

It also sounded like something that shouldn’t work as cleanly as they claimed.

It sure didn’t give you much confidence, at least. That feeling didn’t improve even when they added that the failure rate was less than one percent.

Less than one percent.

A number meant to comfort, but didn't, because you had read the contract. You knew exactly what that “one percent” meant. You had signed away their liability, despite that. Every risk, every complication, every worst-case scenario: they were covered. And were legally untouchable, in any way that mattered.

If something went wrong…

That was on you.

Well, somehow, even this didn't stop you.

They continued the evaluations after that, and they measured your height, weight, baseline muscle density, your reflexes, and all that.

They checked for allergies as well.

“Just pollen,” you said. “Spring allergies. Nothing serious.”

A few brows still furrowed at that, understandably. Pandora wasn’t exactly lacking in plant life. If anything, it was overwhelmingly full of it, compared to Earth. But after a brief exchange between the staff, they moved on. Your mask would filter most airborne particles anyway, and Hell’s Gate had its own controlled environment systems.

It would be fine.

Probably.

Still, they added medication to your file. Loaded onto the ship, just in case. Because, as one of them muttered, half-joking, half-not,

They couldn’t have one of their best SciOps candidates going into anaphylactic shock the moment they stepped onto Pandora.

Think of all the wasted money..!

You quickly handled all the paperwork for that time. It felt...strangely easy. You got rid of the apartment, packed boxes, transferred the car under your mom's name, and gave away everything that held value, whether it was money or memory.

Your landlord kept the deposit, of course. You stared at his obnoxious message that said just that because there was no way you had enough time to go sue him for it for a solid minute before letting out a sigh. What was the point of arguing? You were leaving the whole planet, anyway.

Still, fuck him, though.

You moved back in with your parents for those last couple of weeks.

The house felt smaller than you remembered, or maybe you had just outgrown it.

Everyone celebrated. Of course they did. How could they not?

Some were genuinely excited, eyes shining as they asked you question after question, like you were already halfway to becoming something legendary. Others weren’t so convinced.

“You’re really going to leave everything,” one of your aunts said, shaking her head, “for some fancy trees and blue monkeys?”

You laughed it off. It was easier that way.

Some joked about it, too, told you not to forget them, to come visit when they were old and stuck in some nursing home decades from now.

“Bring some good stories,” they said. “Or at least some sticks and stones to show our friends and brag!”

You did cry a few nights, quietly, when no one would hear.

Three days before departure, the medics handed you a final diet list.

It was… restrictive, to say the least.

Honey. Toast. Eggs. Jam. Soup. Tea. Maybe a bit of rice, but no more than fifty grams.

That was it.

It was necessary, they said. Preparation for cryosleep didn’t allow for excess. Your body needed to be as predictable as possible before they shut it down for six years.

Six years.

The number still felt unreal.

The enema the morning before was… less easy to accept. You didn’t like that part, that was for sure, at least. Not even a little. But you understood it, and just got done with it.

Because the alternative, the risk of complications, infections, something going wrong while you were unconscious and untouchable—

You didn’t let your thoughts finish that sentence.

Packing was… harder than expected. You could only bring what fit into a single duffel bag.

No organic materials. No liquids. No sharp objects. No, anything that could be considered remotely dangerous or unstable.

Even clothes were provided by the RDA.

It stripped things down to what truly mattered. So you chose carefully.

A photo album you had kept since high school: corners worn, pages slightly bent from being flipped through too many times.

A book about the Na’vi by Phred Palmer: gifted by your parents, signed on your graduation day, their handwriting uneven but full of pride.

A camera that your friend had insisted you take. “Proof,” he had said. “Or it didn’t happen.”

And a sweatshirt your cousin had ordered for you. “This nerd is going to space, bitches!" It was written in Comic Sans. You almost didn’t pack it. Then you folded it carefully and placed it at the top. It would be your pyjama.

The whole family wanted to come see you off, too.

All of them.

You considered saying no. You really did. It felt… overwhelming. Embarrassing, even, like being a kid again that got dragged into the center of attention, and you didn’t quite know how to handle it.

But this wasn’t just any day. This was the last time. The last time you’d see them all together like this.

So you said yes.

Your dad rented a large SUV just to fit everyone.

It turned into a trip.

Not a drive.

A trip.

Stops along the way. Too many snacks. Too many conversations happening at once, and lots of laughter from everyone.

You couldn’t eat or drink anything. But watching them, seeing how happy they were, how hard they were trying to make this feel like something joyful, it was enough.

Some of them got teary-eyed. They tried to hide it, badly. Your mom was the worst at it. You could see the way she pressed her lips together, the way her eyes glistened just a little too much when she thought you weren’t looking.

So you didn’t let there be silence. Not even for a second. You talked and talked and talked. Filled every gap before it could turn into something else.

“Can you send us photos?”

“Would you be able to call?”

“Maybe we can send each other videos?”

“We should do a family picnic when you come back!”

“Bring souvenirs! I don’t know, alien stuff! Maybe get some stuff from the Na'vi? Hey! Don’t laugh!”

And then, there it was, the RDA facility.

Your mom reached for you first. She held you tightly, arms wrapping around you like she was trying to memorize the shape of you. You hugged her back just as hard, burying your face into her shoulder for a second longer than you meant to.

Then came everyone else. One by one.

Quick hugs. Long hugs. Awkward pats on the back. Quiet reassurances that everything would be okay.

Your dad was last.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled you into a hug so tight you thought he might actually crack a rib.

You laughed, breath hitching slightly. “Dad, please—”

“Just a second,” he muttered.

They were not allowed to get through the gates. Security made that very clear. “Authorized personnel only beyond this point.”

You turned back to your family, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag over your shoulder.

“You guys can go if you want,” you said, trying to sound casual. “This will take a long while.”

“Hell no!” one of your cousins shot back immediately, hand raised like they were in a protest. “We’ll camp here until this damn spaceship is gone, okay?”

A few others chimed in with agreement.

You opened your mouth to argue, your grandparents were too old to stand outside for this long, but the older couple beat you to it.

“You think we got that airbed just for fun?” your grandpa laughed. Your grandmother nodded next to him, entirely too pleased with herself. "We'll be seeing you off even if we won't be able to feel our asses for the next couple of weeks, you got that?"

And that was that.

You gave up with a small shake of your head and turned toward the gates.

But you kept glancing back. You couldn’t help it.

Every time you did, they were still there, waving wildly, shouting things you couldn’t fully make out from the distance.

“I love you!”

“Don’t forget us!”

“Make us proud!”

A whistle cut through the air, loud, sharp, completely inappropriate for the moment, and someone else shouted a "You can do it!" like they were at a sports game.

You huffed out a breath and kinda laughed. They were so unbelievable!

Inside, a man who looked more soldier than staff approached you. “Bag,” he said, and held out a hand.

You handed over your duffel without argument. He checked it quickly before nodding and motioning you forward. Then, you were ushered inside with the others.

No turning back now.

The medbay was already busy. Lines of people were moving in quietly. You joined them and waited for your turn.

When you reached the desk, another employee looked up, fingers already hovering over a terminal.

“Name, and ID number, please.”

You gave them. They typed it in without looking at you, eyes scanning data written on the computer, looking already tired when it was barely nine o'clock. Then they grabbed your bag, affixed a sticker to it, and handed you a bracelet.

You looked at it. It had the same number as the sticker on your duffel bag had.

“Don’t lose it,” he said. “That needs to stay with you throughout the expedition.”

You slipped it onto your wrist, then, and turned it slightly to glance at the barcode again.

“Won’t I get my stuff if I lose it?” you asked.

“Of course you will. Eventually. It’ll just be a huge problem to find it, and it could take months.”

Damn.

“So do my coworkers and me a favor,” he added, already moving on to the next task, “and keep that intact until you reach the cryopods.”

“…Right.”

Then, you waited half an hour at the Sitting Area until a nurse called your number. You rushed to her and sat in a chair.

The next part felt… surreal.

They cut all your hair.

You watched as all of your hair fell to the ground, the buzzing of the razor near your ear, your own face slowly becoming unfamiliar even to you. You hadn’t realized how much of your individuality you had tied to something as simple as your hair until it was gone.

You felt...naked.

Embarassingly so.

They handed you a uniform next. It was something like a hospital gown, but better. Closed properly, and actually not showing your bare ass at the back. Small RDA logos patterned across the fabric, too, as if they needed any more marketing.

You changed as soon as you could, and folded your old clothes automatically, even though you knew you wouldn’t need them anymore.

Then came transport. You were guided into a small vehicle with others, sitting side by side, and then you all drove to the ISV Manifest Destiny.

The spaceship was even bigger than you had imagined. A world on its own, really.

Inside, you were told preparations would continue there. “For sanitary reasons,” someone explained. “It’s more efficient this way.”

You were guided into a box-like room. Then, the door shut behind you with a soft click. Then a hiss came, and the air changed. Something filled the space: thin, almost invisible, carrying a faint artificial scent that hit your nose a second later. It reminded you of lavender.

Some people started to get a bit uneasy.

“Please don’t panic,” a mechanical voice came through, then. “This is just disinfectant. We need to clean you all thoroughly. We can’t risk bringing any external contaminants onboard,” it explained. “Both for your safety and to protect Pandora’s environment. We don’t yet fully understand how Earth-based microorganisms might interact with the local ecosystem or what they might evolve into.”

And, yeah, that tracked.

You all got IVs in your arms, and countless people kept asking you to confirm your name and identification number as you were moved deeper into the ship, again and again and again.

And, yeah, it was annoying but made sense.

Everything here was calculated, after all, and personalized. Every drug, every dosage, every adjustment was tailored to your body, your height, your weight, your medical history. One mistake, one mix-up, one wrong pod…

You already knew the possibilities.

Waking up too early.

Not waking up at all.

Or something worse in between.

In other words, you would be fucked.

By the time you reached your cryopod, your name printed clearly across its surface, your hands were trembling. It was partly from the cold, the ship was freezing, but also from excitement and fear, and the realization that this was it!

You stepped up to get in—

And your foot slipped.

Your balance faltered just enough to send a jolt of panic through you, but before you could actually fall and hit your head, a medic was at your side, steadying you.

“Careful,” she said, voice calm, like she had done this a thousand times before, and, yeah, she probably did.

She held a clipboard in one hand, glancing down at it briefly before looking at you. “Is this Y/N? ID Number: 232405688?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you answered quickly, and tried not to fidget under her gaze.

The pod was… tight. Tighter than you expected, at least. You climbed in, adjusted yourself awkwardly as she began securing the restraints across your body, and made sure you wouldn’t float around once gravity stopped mattering.

“Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

“Okay, then.” She reached behind your head and pulled a thin tube into view. “See this?” she said, and held it near your face. “I’ll connect this to your IV. Your cryopod will pump something called tropagestitocin into your veins. It’ll put you into a hibernation state, and the pod will gradually lower your body temperature to around ten degrees Fahrenheit.”

Ten? Wow.

“It can vary depending on your physiology,” she added. “But that’s our baseline.”

“Will it hurt?” you asked.

She shook her head immediately. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. The medication will take effect before the temperature drop becomes noticeable. After that, the pod will fill with a Perflubron-Pralidarone solution.”

She said it like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t something that sounded like it belonged in a lab experiment instead of your bloodstream.

“These will maintain you in an induced coma with minimal brain activity. No dreaming. No waking. Nothing until we reach Pandora."

You nodded, because, hell, what else could you do?

She connected the tube.

The liquid surged into your vein, glowing faintly neon-blue as it disappeared beneath your skin.

And then—

You felt it.

The medicine was cold, even colder than the spaceship, and you it go through your arm and reach your shoulder. It made you shiver. It wasn't a bad sensation, though. It just felt as if it was...wet? Like the IV had a hole in it and was spraying your skin.

“Now,” the medic said gently, “I’ll close your pod. Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head, "Nah, I'm good. Thank you."

“Good,” she smiled, “Good night, darling. This will be a long sleep.”

Then, she closed the lid. It was above you, and sealed with a quiet hiss, muting every sound coming from the outside. You could see the other passengers, a hundred people or so, with you included, getting put into their own cryopods from the small window, and you tried not to squirm against your restraints in fear of dislocating your IV.

“This is it…” You mumbled, your voice small, barely audible even to yourself. Your throat tightened. “We’re actually leaving…!”

One part of you thought about all the amazing things you were going to see up there, experiences that no other people could even dream of, the Na'vi, the animals, and plants you had studied for years. Would you get to even talk to one of those aliens? Would Dr. Augustine bring you to her school and introduce you to the few that she had contact with? Did the Na'vi really have no written language? How did their speech differ from region to region? Did they have sign language, perhaps?

You tried not to think about all the things you were leaving behind, despite the heavy thud coming from your heart. This was what you had worked for for years, after all..! You had earned this!

You still wished you had spent more time with your mom over the years and thanked your dad for spending so much on all the fancy books, classes, and trainings you had begged him to get you. He had worked so much overtime for all that...

You tried not to feel guilt for leaving like this, for not appreciating them more, for all that stupid teenage angst fight you had caused, yet you did not even remember the reasons for them anymore.

Your dad rarely took care of himself; you always had to drag him to the hospital to get checked and force him to take his medicine. Would he be okay now that you were gone? Would your mom be able to handle him?

Maybe you should have—

The sleep took you in right around that. It wasn't something slow, like how characters from movies counted to ten as anesthesia hit them, or when someone got hit in the head and slowly lost consciousness. It was just...bam! Then, you were asleep.

Your skin, during all of this, turned into something pale. A bloodless, blue-white hue spread across you as the liquid continued to flow through your veins, replacing your own warmth with something colder, something that slowed you down until even your cells seemed to forget what it meant to be alive.

You didn't even notice the clear, thick fluid that filled your pod and suspended you as if you were in the womb. A cold womb of dreamless sleep between worlds.

At some point, the cyropod gently fitted your head into a helmet-like device. This was the Psionic Link Interface, which sensed and transmitted your mental energy to your Avatar, as well as filling your brain with the return signal. A connection between the two of you. The Link, it was called by the RDA.

Was this the reason perhaps why you were so calm during all of this? The presence you had felt at the back of your head, yet could not name or describe?

You were spending the whole voyage linked to it, your Avatar, which was nearby in its own container, just like you. Like two twins in the womb, you communicated without even knowing, a deep level of pre-conscious intimacy, if you will. This way, the Avatar's brain got the chance to imprint with the patterns of your cerebral cortex, and knew that it belonged to you.

In another room, your Avatar floated in its own artificial cradle. Curled inward. Limbs long, even in rest.

It had outgrown anything human years ago, while you slept. If it stood, it would tower eight feet, looking down on you.

And, just like the medic had said, you did not dream a single dream. Or, at least, you don't think you did.

Outside, time moved for everyone else. The arc-light of propulsion faded. The drive module burned, then cooled, glowing with the afterimage of a journey that had carried you farther than any human life was meant to stretch.

It creaked, groaned, then stopped, letting it drift in darkness.

Inside, in weightlessness, the passengers began to emerge from their hibernacula as well. They all look like shit, you included, hungover badly from the drugs.

Your eyes snapped open, vision blurred, light too bright and sharp, as your body convulsed with the sudden return of sensation.

Everything hurt.

Not sharply, or anything specific, per se.

Just… everything.

You coughed, liquid catching in your throat as the pod drained the last of the fluids, restraints loosening just enough for you to move. Your limbs felt weak, unresponsive, like they had forgotten how to move.

And from the looks of it, the others were the same.

You forced yourself upright, slow and shaky, your arms trembling under your own weight despite the zero gravity. It felt like you had woken up from a surgery, almost.

Fuck, your head pounded, throbbing, making every sound feel amplified, too loud, and too close. It was as if your brain was about to explode..!

You then noticed that your hair was cropped back to a brush-cut and wondered when that happened. Did someone go around shaving everyone while you were out? The thought felt absurd. You almost laughed, but it came out as a weak exhale instead.

Then, you heard an announcement.

"Good morning, everyone! We have almost reached our destination. Please follow the arrow stickers and reach the medical bay for a quick examination. Tell them if anything feels off. We will soon be entering orbit around Pandora."

You managed to pull yourself out of your pod, limbs shaky but obedient enough, and for a brief moment, you just floated. It was strange. Your body expected weight, resistance, something to push against, but there was nothing.

It was definitely a bizarre, but fun sensation.

You were clumsy at first, then got a little better as you mimicked the techs while they moved around. Then, you stopped for a second just to take it all in. Rows of open cryopods. People drifting. The low hum of the spaceship that carried you across stars.

You didn't really know what to do. So you did what everyone else did and followed the stickers.

Voices began to stand out as your head slowly cleared. And one of them, slightly louder, a bit awkward, trying to sound confident, caught your attention. “I mean, yeah, I’ve read all the papers, but actually being here... this is insane!”

You glanced over. It was a man you vaguely recognized from briefings, though you never got the chance to speak with him.

“Norm,” someone calls him. Maybe you'll get to talk to him later.

The medbay feels like déjà vu. There are needles again, and lots of cold instruments. People who barely look at you as they work. They draw blood. Check your vitals. Shine lights into your eyes.

And then the questions—

“Please look at the camera and state your name.”

You answer.

“How old are you?”

You answer.

“Do you know where we are right now?”

“…On the ISV Manifest Destiny.”

“And our destination?”

“…Pandora.”

“What about your ID number?”

You recite it without hesitation.

Eventually, they wave you through.

“Stable,” someone muttered, already moved on.

Then, a medic clapped their hands loudly, gathering attention. “Come on, guys! There’s still time to grab some breakfast and make it back to see yourselves be born!”

People perk up immediately when they hear that, including you. You weren't sure what was more exciting: finally getting to eat after six and a half years of sleeping or actually getting to see the Avatars. For you, they both sure sound enticing.

You move faster this time. Swimming, no, more like gliding, along with the others toward the dining area.

The “breakfast” was… underwhelming. They literally handed you a tube. It looked like toothpaste, and smelled even worse. You reluctantly squeezed a bit into your mouth and immediately regretted every decision that led you here while gagging.

“Is this really what we’ll get?” you asked. This thing was nasty! “Nothing else?”

The man handing them out shrugged like he’s had this conversation too many times already. “Sorry. You all will have a paste-based diet for a while. Gotta make sure your digestive system doesn’t freak out after cryo.”

You barely manage to swallow it down. “It tastes horrible, though…”

He gave you a look. It was half sympathetic, half get used to it. “It all tastes like crap. Even the ‘fresh’ stuff',” he said, then, “because of all the chemicals, preservation, freeze-drying, and all that. Food doesn’t exactly stay good on a trip like this.”

“Well,” you mutter, taking another reluctant bite, “we came here for the view, not the food, right?”

To that, he let out a short laugh. “That’s for damn sure.”

Somehow, you managed to finish the whole thing, even though every bite felt like ash and chalk mashed together. At least now, you felt full, and your headache was gone as well.

You really hoped that there was something better at Hell’s Gate. There had to be, right? Pandora was full of life: plants, ecosystems, entire networks of organic systems working in ways Earth had never seen.

There had to be something edible that even humans could eat.

At least, you prayed so.

After that, you made your way to the “Birthing Area.” And, of course, at the entrance, they stopped you.

"Your bracelet, please."

You showed it. A scanner passed over the barcode, blinking once.

“232405688. Name: Y/N. Avatar Driver,” the guard confirmed, stepping aside. “You’re good. Head in.”

And them, you saw them.

“Damn!” you couldn't help but say. “These guys are huge!”

Even suspended, curled, half-floating in their tanks, they dwarfed everything around them. Limbs long and powerful, bodies built with a kind of strength that made your own feel… small. But that was expected.

A few techs nearby laughed. “They sure are,” one of them said, pushing off a railing and floating closer to you. “First time seeing them up close?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, still staring.

He pulled up something on a tablet. “Let me check your file… alright, here we go.”

He pointed toward the back of the room. “G-09. That’s yours. I’ll grab you a suit while you take a look.”

You nodded, "Okay. Thanks.”

And, while holding your breath, you floated over to the tank containing your alter ego, your own Avatar body. It was unbelievable, almost, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud.

The body was, strangely, almost human in most ways. The waist was narrow and long, and the shoulders were very wide, giving a V-shaped upper back. The neck was long as well, almost twice the size of yours, with two arms and legs.

Then, for a moment, the Avatar stretched, almost catlike, extending to its full height, dwarfing you. The tank itself was massive, easily the size of a car, and still, it barely contained the full presence of the alien.

"Hi there," you said as if it could hear you, and got closer. And as it turned in the amniotic fluid, you saw its face. You knew what to expect, of course, yet seeing your own face on the face of another still left you speechless.

It was your eyes, your mouth, your cheekbones, your eyebrows, your chin...Despite the alien proportions, the features are definitely reminiscent of you.

Its eyes were twice the size, and for a moment, its head turned to the side like an owl. You put a hand on the glass between you two and tried to get a better look. The mouth was broader, but still human in structure, save for that faint, cat-like split in the upper lip. And, yeah! The tail! There was a tail moving lazily in the fluid! It was just like the photos you had seen in the documentaries and your textbooks.

A complex pattern of iridescent dots and lines, perfectly symmetrical, ran over the body as well, almost following the lines of the nervous or circulatory system. These were bioluminescent chromatophores, you knew it, and they shone in the dark like fireflies.

The Na'vi can communicate with these, you had learned, and in fact, they usually were shifting and changing color to indicate mood and emotion, even without conscious control. But, for now, they were all still.

The queue looked pretty good, too. It extended from the base of the skull, floating weightlessly, twisting gently in the liquid. At the tip, the tendrils, the delicate, almost tentacle-like filaments, drifted like something alive on their own.

You knew what it was.

An external extension of the nervous system.

A direct interface that would help them connect to their world.

But knowing didn’t prepare you for seeing it.

Then, the Avatar twitched. It was a sudden, small, and involuntary movement. It was probably because of the electrostimulation, if you had to guess.

"Nice to meet you," you whispered to it, your fingers tapping at the glass. "Let's get along, yeah? We'll be working together now."

Then, a hand landed on your shoulder, and you jolted so hard you nearly pushed yourself backward into another tank.

“Here,” the tech from before said. He held out a sealed bundle. “Wear this. You can change over there.”

“Y-Yeah..!” you stuttered, and grabbed the plastic-wrapped suit. God, that was embarrassing! “I ’ll-uh-I’ll do it in a moment. Just… give me a second.”

You glanced back at it, at you, then went to the changing room.

They didn’t give you long. Technicians in full plastic suits, just like you, quickly handed you some equipment before guiding you along with them. They were hurrying. Probably because another twelve Avatars were waiting to get "born".

Someone pressed a mask into your hands, then helped you secure it over your face before you could even say anything.

The airlock sealed behind you with a heavy thunk. The mask felt really uncomfortable with the way it clung to the side of your face, but you would have to deal with it. A second door opened, and a bright light flooded the chamber.

“This environment matches Pandora’s atmospheric composition,” one of the techs said through the comms, voice slightly distorted. “Ammonia, methane, CO₂, oxygen, nitrogen… and even some hydrogen cyanide.”

“Meaning,” the other added flatly, “if you lose that mask, you’ll be dead in seconds.”

You swallowed, “…Got it.”

In the center of the chamber was your tank. When did they even bring it here? You stepped closer with the others and tried not to feel so...exposed and unsure, for some reason. It was weird getting stared at, or, at least, at the thing that was...you? Yours?

...Hell, you didn't even know it anymore.

“Uhh...-” you tried to get someone's attention, your voice awkward over the comms. “Do I really need to be here? I mean, I've got no idea what to do."

A man beside you reached out and squeezed your shoulder. Probably trying to be reassuring. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Just being here is enough. It’s always best for the controller to be present during birth.”

Again, with the "Birth" thing. You couldn't explain why, but every time they called it that, it made shivers go down your spine.

They moved quickly after that. A flexible collar sealed around the tank's opening. It was a synthetic ring designed to hold the amniotic fluid in place despite the lack of gravity. Someone near it pushed some buttons, and a pipe at the back started to suck it all out, so it wouldn't go around flying in zero gravity.

The round entrance opened, then, and slowly, very carefully, they began to pull the body out.

There was a faintly sweet and musky scent in the air. It was probably coming from the amniotic fluid the Avatar was still covered in.

All you could do was stare as they worked.

It looked—

God.

Holy fuck...

It looked like a giant baby being born from a glass and rubber womb.

Limbs emerged first, long and slack legs. They glowed faintly under the lights. Then the torso. The tail trailed behind and almost got stuck under its own weight. Then, someone supported the neck so the head wouldn't hit anything as they laid it onto the table.

And then—

It moved.

It was a sudden, weak kick. Then a twitch. The Avatar started to flail around after a couple of seconds, and everyone reacted at once. Hands reached, and tried to steady the body as it floated, the techs doing their best to strap the Avatar down.

It looked so alive...!

“Hey, Y/N!” one of the techs called sharply. “Get over here! Help us hold it down!”

Your brain stalled when you heard that, but your body still managed to push itself forward despite how hard your heart was slamming violently against your ribs. “Oh my God…” you muttered under your breath. “This is really happening…!”

The blue skin felt warm under your palms. It was overwhelming: the heat, the constant movement, the shudders. This wasn’t something you studied or watched through a screen! No one had told you that the Avatar would struggle, weakly, instinctively, and jerk its limbs around as if trying to understand what was happening! It was as if it were struggling into existence, scared and confused!

Oh god, you felt like you were both going to throw up and faint.

"Easy, easy!" someone muttered, guiding the shoulders down, as if it would understand, and maybe, it could. "Calm down, big guy!"

Someone else got a suction tube and pressed it into their mouth. The Avatar jerked again and coughed the last of the fluid in its lungs.

You watched as it took its first breath, mouth so wide you could see the sharp teeth.

Then it started to wail.

And, God, holy shit, its voice sounded so much like yours it was as terrifying as it was mesmerizing!

Its fists clenched tight, and long fingers curled inward as its face contorted, eyes squeezing shut, mouth wide at the terror and pain of the outer world.

Is there really no one in it, you wondered, then, is this thing really nothing more than a body to control when it can scream and cry like this? No soul to speak of?

Then, just as suddenly, the body turned towards you. You couldn't help but flinch back. And then, a massive hand shot forward and grabbed your arm before you could even react.

It squeezed it so hard you thought your arm would break at any moment. The pain flared instantly and made your vision spark for a second. “W-what the hell-?!” you cried, and tried to pull back as hard as you could, but it didn't budge.

Then, it looked at you. Really looked. Its amber eyes opened wide and unfocused at first, but they managed to lock into yours seconds later. All you could think about was how intelligent they looked, by then.

There was someone in there, wasn't there? Someone else, even if it was made of your blood, for you.

The Avatar's terror passed, then, as if it recognized you as a part of itself, and it took shuddering breaths of the poisonous air, shaking. Did it think that this room was far too cold as well?

You managed to pull away your arm from its grip, then, shaking just like it. And, at the end of the day, you would have a huge bruise in the shape of its hand.

"Congratulations," the tech said, grinning, and pulling you out of your thoughts. "Are you ready for your new life?"

Rocinante was sitting near the window, looking out, when he pulled out a pack of smokes from his jacket. You were cooking, your hands on the cutting board, chopping vegetables, when you heard him light his cigarette and put it between his lips.

He always did that, one just before eating, even though you always scolded him for it, because it filled the room with that rancid smell. It was a part of your routine at this point, really. It was almost as if Rocinante wanted to hear you complain.

...But, for some reason, you had this indescribable feeling of dread today. Why were you so cold, shaking? Why did you feel like something bad was coming your way?

You dropped the diced onions into the pot before turning your head towards your husband. Despite your apprehension, he seemed content and unaware of the ghosts that haunted you at that moment.

From the small window, you could see that the sky was dark, and it looked like it was about to rain. You tried to call out to Rocinante, but nothing came out of your throat.

You wanted to cry. Why did you feel this immense sadness? Why did it feel like you were grieving for something that had not even happened yet?

You didn't know.

You wanted to feel Rocinante, so you abandoned whatever you were doing and walked towards him. He did not hear you, or, if he did, he did not bother to turn his head.

He looked so peaceful, you were almost envious.

Your naked feet tapped against the wooden floor, and the pot behind you on the stove was bubbling. It smelt like...something, but you couldn't place it. It was familiar, however, and that familiarity gave you peace of mind.

Then, you placed your hand against his neck. It was so soft, so warm, so full of life, despite all the scars it was covered with. You could even feel his pulse under your palm.

You were so, so grim.

"Rocinante?" you breathed out, then, and placed a kiss on one of his many scars.

That made the blond turn his head towards you, with the cigarette still between his lips. When his eyes landed on you, he smiled. It was the kind that reached his eyes as if you just standing in front of him made his day, and he let you see that little gap between his front teeth.

He hated it, that little gap. He thought it made him look goofy, and he rarely smiled because of it. You thought it was perfect. Everything about Rocinante was perfect, though, wasn't it? His blond, curly hair between your fingers, his long, awkward limbs curled around you, those red, droopy eyes that always looked your way, and his raspy voice that called out to you.

Yes, you adored everything about him. You adored him with all your heart. You even loved those cigarettes he loved to smoke so much. Ashen and smoky. Maybe even slightly metallic. It was, after all, his scent, too.

When was the last time you had smelled that scent? Tasted it on his lips?

For some reason, your heart was beating hard. It was so, so heavy. You could feel it against your ribs as if it wanted to get out.

"Y/N," Rocinante said, then, and his hand, so huge against your frame, came to cup your cheek. Hearing him say your name like that made you shiver, and you wanted nothing more than to embrace him for the rest of the day and listen to his breathing.

He opened his mouth again to say something, but you didn't hear it. All you could hear was the wind hitting the window, the dried leaves rustling around, and the food you had abandoned just earlier boiling away.

Was it something important? You didn't know. You didn't remember it anymore.

A part of you hated yourself for it. Was this why you felt this intense heaviness in your heart?

"Roci..."

You held his hands, then, because you could at least do that. It was so cold, almost bone-chilling and sharp. Did Rocinante feel it, too? Did he know that something bad was coming your way?

What were you supposed to do?

You almost fell off your bed when your alarm went off. The sound was ear-piercing, and you cursed yourself for putting that damn thing so far away from the nightstand, even though the point had indeed been to drag your ass from the bed so you wouldn't spend the whole day in there like you had been doing the last couple of weeks.

"Damn it..." you mumbled under your breath, and noticed only when the blanket was no longer on top of you how much you had sweated throughout the night. Did you have night terrors again? You didn't know, you had no idea what you had dreamt about, the memory already gone before you even stepped out of your bedroom.

Your nightgown was drenched with sweat, however, and your hair was uncomfortably sticking to your neck. Suffice to say, you felt gross, and definitely smelt the part too.

...God, you did not want to get into the shower at all, though!

The days had gotten warmer and warmer each day these couple of weeks, despite being the middle of autumn. And even though you had practically isolated yourself in your house the whole time since Rocinante's departure, even you had noticed that change in the weather.

Despite still feeling tired as hell, as if you had dugged your way out of a grave, you still took your ass to the bathroom and got under the shower. You took the shampoo bottle and saw that it was almost empty, mentally noting to buy more later before applying the rest to your hair. It smelled nice, some artificial flower scent you couldn't name, and the chilly water cooled you down a bit.

Just like how it took you ages to get in, it took you ages to get out as well. But once you were tired of all the standing, you got out and went to your bedroom to change.

That was when you noticed how much your room smelled as well, and with a crunched face, you opened the window to let some fresh air in. Had you really sweated that badly? Sheesh.

After that, you went to the kitchen to grab something to eat. However, when you went through cabinet after cabinet and the refrigerator, you saw that you had almost nothing left. Well, this wasn't good. Your stomach growled, and with disappointment, you took the rest of the stale bread and what little jam you had to ease your hunger a bit.

When did you go shopping the last time? You weren't sure, but it had to be at least three weeks.

You sighed again. You really did not want to go out at all. You didn't want to step out of your house or have to talk to anyone. Despite that, you still had a paper and pen and wrote down everything you needed;

-Vegetables (Spinach, Broccoli, Brussels Sprouts, Mushrooms, Carrots, what else) -Milk -Olive Oil -Fruits (Apples, Bananas, Orange) -Cigarettes (for Roci) -Bread -Rice / Pasta -Chocolate*? Chips -Juice -Ground Beef

You pondered what else to get, then;

"Ahh, yeah."

-Shampoo -Bodywash -Toothpaste

Well, it looked like this was it. You placed the pen away, then took the grocery list and put it into your wallet so you wouldn't lose it. You took a bag with you. You didn't want to pay extra just for a paper one, just for it to rip before you even arrived at home.

Despite how hot it was, you still took your cardigan with you. You really needed new shoes, too, and would have to take out your thinner clothes from the attic. You really had not thought that you would still need summer clothes, however. Really, why was the weather so weird this year? Your island was not even close to the Grand Line.

You locked the door and went down the hill. At your side, you saw that the Neighbor's Girl was playing around the fields. She waved at you when she was you, and smiled.

"Good afternoon, Aunt Y/N! You're finally out! I thought you died in there or something!"

Wow, kids did not hold back at all, did they? "Good afternoon to you, too, sweetie! Yup, I'm out today. How are your mother and father?"

"They're fine. Mom went to visit Granma and Grandpa."

"Well, that's nice."

"Yeah. She'll get me some cookies from them, too! I love granny's chocolate chip cookies!"

She told you more about her friends and how one of the boys on the other side of the neighborhood had chased her and made her fall down. She had cried a lot and had bruises on her knees. Another boy saw that and hit the bully for it.

You told her that if someone hurts her or says something really mean, she has to tell her father, or else the bullying might get worse. She nodded, but it didn't look like she took you seriously. Kids rarely listened to adult advice, unfortunately. Oh, well. Maybe you could tell him yourself once he inevitably came to your door.

The sun was already cooking you when you reached the bottom of the hill, and you could feel the hotness coming from your probably red cheeks.

You then thought about Rocinante and wondered when he would finally give you a call. It had been four months since you heard his voice, and you were getting restless. Was the boy he was with fine now? Had he died? What about your husband's mission? When was it going to be over soon?

You tripped on the pavement and almost landed on your face. Some people stared at you, and you felt that annoying pit of embarrassment in your stomach while getting up as if nothing had happened.

Well, no matter what happened, once he was back, you were going to make him retire. You were sick of always having to worry about him, and you were sure that Sengoku would arrange a good pension for him anyway, even if he leaves the Marines far too early than he would have liked, so that his adoptive son wouldn't have to worry about taking care of himself and you.

You could help him find a job here, too; if not, you guys could move to another island with employment better suited for him. It didn't matter to you either way. As long as you had your garden and that ridiculous but lovely blond by your side, you could make it due.

You entered the grocery store. The cold air at the door felt really nice. You wandered through the aisles and took everything you needed. The pastries were on sale, but the hair products had gotten an increase. Really, how did people afford 17,850 Berri hair conditioner? You sure as hell couldn't. You got the cheapest, which smelled like coconut but also had garlic in it?

Then, you stood in the alcohol aisle. You bit your lip, already feeling guilty, because you had promised Rocinante before he left that you wouldn't drink as much anymore. As much. Which meant you could have a little...right?

That bottle of Jerez looked so good, too. And it was only 7,500 Berri! You would drink a glass every other day, not all. Maybe make some pasta sauce with it—

You reached for it—

No...!

Nope. You wouldn't do it. There was no way you would be fine with only one glass, and would probably finish the bottle before the moon was up, anyway.

"Fuck.." you cursed, and quickly headed towards the cash register after grabbing a pack of spring water and a ton of snacks to keep you busy. It had a fancy writing on it, South Aso it read, so it had to be good, right? At least, you hoped so.

You put the stuff on the register as the cashier greeted you. She was an awkward-looking girl with a bob cut.

"Good Afternoon, Miss," she said, and you saw the missing tooth between her front teeth. She also had a pretty bad-looking bruise on the side of her face. It was almost as if someone had beaten her.

You tried not to stare.

"Good afternoon," you pulled out your wallet. "The weather is great, isn't it?"

"Yeah," the girl smiled and pulled out a bag from under the register to put your groceries in. "I definitely prefer hot over cold, you know? At least the heat bill won't get too high, haha! And here are your groceries, Miss."

"Thank you," you said, and smiled back at her. "How much do I owe you?"

"32,650 Berries."

"Here. Have a nice day."

"You too!"

Then, you left the store. You decided to walk around the town a bit just because now that you were out, you looked at the different shops scattered around. The bookstore was having a sale. The bakery had lots of cakes on display. And a lot of parents were out with their kids for some reason. Oh, yeah. Schools are about to start, aren't they? They're probably buying all the stuff they'll need for the new year: pencils, crayons, notebooks, scissors, their uniforms, and all that stuff.

It had been years since you had finished school, and, God, you did not even wish to reminisce about those days at all.

Then, you noticed a couple with their two kids, eating ice cream with their own bags between their arms. The girl looked around kindergarten age, while the boy was a bit older. Maybe the last years of primary school? It looked like they got along quite well, despite the age difference.

They looked so happy.

For a moment, you were reminded of your own folks, and it left a sour taste in your mouth. That was enough for you to decide that this was enough wandering, and you walked back to your humble house.

The way back was much harder on your legs than coming down.

When you finally managed to reach the door, you were a sweaty mess, and you wanted nothing more than to get back in your bed. You slammed it shut with your feet and dragged the bags into the kitchen before sitting on the chair, huffing. Your wet hair was sticking to your forehead again.

If Rocinante had been here, you could have sent him to get these damn groceries instead. His long legs would have no problem climbing up this hill, at least.

Then, your stomach grumbled, making you aware how dizzy you started to feel. When was the last time you had eaten a proper meal, excluding the pathetic slice of bread from this morning? Hmm...Some chips you had found yesterday at some point, if you remembered right?

.............

.......

....

...It wasn't much, was it?

You pondered whether you could just sleep this feeling off, but the dizziness was indeed bad, so you, very begrudgingly, took a pot out of the cupboard, filled it with water, and put it on the stove to make some noodles.

There was a mountain of dishes next to the sink, too, waiting to be washed. "Fuck," you swore. "Fuck this. Fuck, fuck, fuck," and ripped a piece of the bread, and stuck it in your mouth before making your way to them, too.

God, the stench was horrible! You had to breathe through your mouth to not gag, and even then, you could still kinda taste it at the top of your mouth. You didn't even want to think about what kind of mold these things were covered with, since they sat there, dirty, for weeks now.

You managed to go through half of that mountain in half an hour and then decided to finish the rest later.

You were too lazy to make any sauce for the pasta, so you just squirted some ketchup on it and called it a day. You threw yourself back onto the chair and ungracefully stuffed your face with the food.

You had to accept that eating did make you feel a lot better, despite the lack of nutrition in it. Maybe you should make a big pot of stew, then you could eat it for a few days without having to cook again and again. You would have significantly fewer dishes to wash, too.

Then, you heard a knock on your door. It almost made you jump out of your skin, before you guessed that it was probably your Neighbor. You got up to open the door.

"Good evening, Y/N," the man smiled at you. "I've wanted to check on you. How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Do you want to come in?"

"Sure," he said, and took out his shoes. "My girl said she talked with you today. Did you go out?"

You nodded, "I went shopping for a few things, that's all."

"Well, that's good to hear," you two headed back towards the kitchen, and sat at the table. He did glance at the dishes that were yet to be washed, but did not comment on them."You should take regular walks, you know? Get out more, and all, even if it's just for a few minutes. Maybe you could join my girl and me at the park sometimes? She loves to swing and run around. Having someone younger to help me keep an eye on her would be nice."

You sighed, you knew what he was trying to do, but you were a whole ass adult, and didn't need a babysitter. "...Thanks. Maybe sometimes."

The man looked at you for a moment, as if he had heard your inner comment, then said, "...I'm not trying to be overbearing or anything, Y/N, I'm just worried. Since your husband left, you've hauled yourself here and rarely get out anymore. This much loneliness isn't good for anyone. I just want to make sure you're okay. We neighbors need to stick together, right?"

Holding back a sigh, you nodded, "I know, I guess I've been a bit...off," yeah, sure, that was a way to put it, "It's just that...I haven't heard from Rocinante for a while, and I'm worried, that's all."

"I'm sure he's doing okay," your Neighbor tried to comfort you. You wished it did. "He might be a bit clumsy, but he has a good head on his shoulders. Marines are always busy. I bet he's counting the days he'll see you, too, just wait a bit more."

"I hope you're right," you said, and went to the stove to make some tea, just to be busy. Your eyes felt like they were getting watery, and you really did not want to cry in front of the man. "I just have this weird feeling that something bad is going to happen, you know?"

"Did you consider seeing a doctor?" he asked. "Maybe your overall health is affecting your head. I know you say you eat well, but I bet the only thing you ate this whole week was instant noodles and those powder-soups."

You snorted, "...Well, I won't say you are wrong."

"My wife had gotten postpartum depression after the birth. She constantly had this persistent feeling of dread and hopelessness. It was hard to get her out of bed, and even harder to convince her to take her medicine. It took the whole family's support to help her out, and—"

And you had no one. Not your husband, not your parents, or grandparents, or cousins, or even any real friends other than this man and his family.

Just you.

You were lonely; anyone could see that.

You took the cup of chamomile tea and set it in front of him. He thanked you and took a sip, "I just want you to know that we're here for you, if anything happens. Just knock on our door or give me a call, and I'll come here."

"...Thank you," you said, refusing to lift your gaze from your own drink. "I appreciate that." And, yeah, you really did.

"Anytime."

"Well, enough about me. How's your family doing?"

"Well, the school is about to start, and we got some stuff for our girl. She really is not happy about it, though. Especially the uniform. Says it looks ugly. But what will you do? She can't not go."

"She's a really friendly and energetic kid. I'm sure she'll make lots of friends there."

"..I hope so. I bet she'll drive the teachers crazy! She really can't sit still for more than ten minutes, you know? She just has to run around."

"It'll take time, but she'll adjust. I also used to walk around the class and talk to my classmates no matter how many times my teachers told me not to, but around middle school, I calmed down."

"Well, that's good to hear."

Oh, now that you remembered, "...You might want to talk with her about bullies, though."

"Why?"

"I think some boys are taunting her, she said one pushed her really hard, and that she fell and cried." you told the man. "She said it was okay later, but... yeah. Things like that usually escalate rather than dial down. You should tell her that she needs to inform you and her teachers if things like that keep happening."

The Neighbor nodded, already thoughtful. "Thank you. Will do."

He was indeed a good father, wasn't he? A good man and a good father. Always so concerned about others and ready to lend a hand. You wished your father had been like that as well: kind eyes, kind smile, kind heart...

Maybe, then—

"By the way," the man said, and pulled you out of your thoughts, "There was something else I wanted to talk with you about."

You finally looked up, "Yeah?"

"I've got this cousin, he's also a Marine," he said. "And he called me a few days earlier, you know? He said...something weird is going on."

You frowned, not liking the sound of that at all, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not sure, but he said something weird is happening with the sun," the man explained, or tried to, at least. "He didn't know what it was about exactly, either, but he said the higher-ups were acting very strange, and he found it concerning, and that was why he called us."

"..The sun?"

What the hell?

"He'll call me again once he knows more, but maybe it would be smart to stock up on some stuff. You know, the essentials. Just in case, like if the World Government declares a lockdown or something."

That was not reassuring at all, but you nodded regardless, "Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

"It's almost ten o'clock now, I need to get going. Take this," he said, and pulled a piece of paper from his jacket. "This is my new den den number. I'll give you a call once I learn more."

"Okay, thank you. Have a nice night."

"You too, Y/N. I'll see you later."

You accompanied him to the door and waved him off until he was out of your sight. You felt so tired all of a sudden, but still too restless to fall asleep. You rinsed the cups from before and put them to the side before pulling out the pack of cigarettes that Rocinante had forgotten from where you had hidden it under the drawer.

You opened the paper flip and smelled it. The tobacco had a pungent, dry, and heavy scent. Without thinking much, you took one out and put it between your lips before lighting it. You had no idea what you were doing, honestly. The last time you smoked, you were thirteen with your friend from back then, and even then, you had not taken more than one puff, choking and then giving it back.

Hers had been chocolate-flavored, yet still tasted like crap. She had laughed at you when you inevitably coughed, and instead of embarrassment, you had felt fondness in that moment.

A little adolescent stupidity that no one but you two knew. After that, you never tried to smoke again, however, you never saw the appeal.

Thinking about Rocinante, you inhaled the smoke into your lungs before, and again, just like you had known you would, coughing it all out. You didn't stop, however, and kept repeating this until your eyes were watering from the pain, and the stick between your fingers was nothing but a small lump that you had to throw away.

"I still don't get why you all do this," you said to yourself. You had started to cry by now, and you couldn't tell if it was more because of the burning of your lungs or the ache in your chest.

You went to the couch and wept until you fell asleep. You did this a lot these days, and found it quite pathetic. At least your husband was not here to see this.

You were walking, walking, walking. Your feet were hitting against the concrete, your eyes glued to the ground. You refused to look around you, like you always did. It always felt like people were watching you, how you moved. Sometimes you felt like a creature, maybe a little lizard, inside a human skin, playing pretend. Did the other girls get some kind of manual that you didn't? How else did they fit in so well, and you—

At some point, you woke up before the dream was even finished and saw that it was the middle of the night. Around three a.m, if you saw the clock right. "Ugh, great," you mumbled under your breath. This meant it would take a while until you managed to sleep again, and most likely woke up with a killer headache.

You hated remembering your teenage years...Even more so, when Rocinante was not there to distract you with his kisses.

You noticed your left shoulder hurts when you got up, and tried to ease the pain a bit with stretching. It did not really help.

If he were here, he could have massaged it for you....

You walked around the house again, like a restless ghost, until you took your den den out of the closet without much thought. You turned on the radio and watched as the little snail tried to find a channel for you to listen to.

It looked a bit pissed off from being woken up this early, though. Maybe you could give it some lettuce as an apology later.

Then, the den den started to speak.

"-llo, dear listeners. It's time for another day with 'I Want to Believe,' a program where we'll uncover mysteries and government conspiracies!"

"Today, we'll be discussing with you...the Void Century! For this topic, we have a special guest from Ohara, but we'll keep his identity a secret for security reasons. So, 'Mister Know', is it true that the World Government was formed to destroy an ancient, advanced civilization called the 'Great Kingdom?'"

"We can't say for sure just yet, but my teams of archeologists have discovered many interesting findings that lead to this conclusion, especially considering how the WG has been trying to get a hold of the Ancient Weapons for decades now to maintain their power and keep the current oligarchy, the Mariejois and its Celestial Dragons, intact despite the destructive and self-serving influence they had to the common people for hundreds of years now. I can genuinely say that I believe they are—"

You sighed and changed the channel. You really did not have it in you to listen to stuff like this right now.

"-e back, everyone! This is Runbā, and today, I am excited to talk about a collaboration that'll happen between Tesoro Band and Animaru next year! As my listeners would know, Gild Tesoro, with his love for music, has been searching for a couple of bands this year to work on a new album on his ship that he says will be nothing short of 'GRAND', and honestly? I think choosing our new and hype mink band for this job could not have been a better choice! As for now, we don't know all the details, but you can trust Runbā to look more into—"

You tapped the den den, and the snail changed its tune again.

One channel was playing classical music, another was talking about the weather in Grand Line, while a WG-assigned one was talking about the news. There were lots of static, too, but you weren't sure if it was because your den den wasn't able to understand the signals from being so sleepy, or if it was just empty channels.

You looked at the lock. One hour had already passed.

You wondered if you should give a call to your husband, despite how late it was. "He's probably sleeping, though, right?" You thought, biting your lip. You didn't want to bother him, but if you could just hear his voice for a moment, you could just—

You dialed the number, you had memorized it by now, and waited for the other line to connect.

"Pere Pere Pere...."

"Pere Pere Pere...."

"Pere Pere Pere...."

You let it ring like this five times before stopping the snail. Of course, he wouldn't answer, you justified it to yourself, it was far too dangerous.

The snail looked up at you, concerned. You petted it a bit before letting it rest in its little enclosure again.

You felt a bit guilty now. You hoped that suddenly calling him out of the blue didn't put him in danger or anything. What if he was in a meeting? Or if he was doing whatever spies did? Or maybe he was bringing that sick boy to another doctor?

Biting your nail, you went to the bathroom cabinet and pulled out a bottle. It was sleeping pills. It was a bit too late to take them now, but... maybe if you broke it in half, it would be fine.

You first tried it with your fingers to no avail, so you took a knife and slowly sawed it through rather than cutting it.

You popped it into your mouth, drank some water from the sink so it wouldn't stick on your throat, and went to your bed.

JAKE SULLY

You and Jake were in the middle of an argument after the latest mission went wrong.

“Jake, you need to calm down.” You said. “It’s not that bad—“

“Not that bad?” he hissed, ears pinned flat against his head. “We’ve got seven injured men! If it wasn’t for—if you had just—you never listen! I gave you direct orders, but you still went ahead and did whatever you wanted!”

The others around you scattered away and left you alone, yet you still felt your face burn hot for getting scolded in front of your people.

“This is not a squad!” you snapped back, your tail lashing hard just as his. “I’m not a soldier, and you are not my superior, JakeSully!”

“Yeah, that’s true!” The man shot back. “A subordinate would have listened to my orders and wouldn’t cause a—”

He stopped.

“…A what?” You said, and got a step closer to him, glaring.

Jake clenched his jaw so tightly you could see the muscles twitch beneath blue skin. For a moment, anger burned hot in those golden eyes, but something else flickered underneath it, too. Fear. Regret, too, maybe.

“Let’s just stop here, okay?” he muttered, then, and looked away from you. “Before either of us says something we don’t mean.” He took a step back and hurried to leave your side. “…I’ll see you later.”

“Jake—”

But he was already gone.

You watched him stalk away from the camp, stiff, twitching. Outside the High Camp, Jake paced back and forth like an agitated animal and ran a hand over his hair every few seconds while completely ignoring the eyes on him.

You scoffed quietly and turned away as well.

Jake could be so patronizing sometimes.

You understood why he was upset. The mission had gone wrong. The humans had arrived earlier than you all expected, the Thanators had been spooked because of it, and in the chaos, you had split off to draw the gunship fire away from the others.

It had worked, of course, but barely.

Seven of your people were hurt.

One was dead.

And Jake had seen you disappear into smoke and gunfire, screaming after you, scared.

Still, that did not give him the right to talk to you like you were nothing but a reckless child. You were a warrior, too. You could protect yourself. Eywa knew you had done it long before Jake Sully had ever arrived on Pandora, after all.

With your mood souring further the more you thought about it, you threw yourself into work instead.

You helped grind herbs for the healers. Hauled water from the stream. Repaired torn riding harnesses with quick, irritated pulls of your hands.

Anything to stop replaying the argument in your head, really.

By noon, the camp had settled into a quieter tempo. Children laughed somewhere in the distance, the injured were attended to, and the smell of roasting teylu drifted through the air.

You were crouched beside a basket of dried fruit when you heard hurried footsteps approaching you.

“...Look, I know I was being an ass.”

You looked up. Jake stood in front of you, breathing hard like he had run across half the forest to find you. His hair was slightly disheveled, and guilt sat plainly across his face.

Before you could answer, however, he reached down and took both your hands in his, kissing your knuckles. “It’s just that—I was worried,” he said quickly. "I had one second to make a call, and—”

“Jake—”

“If I had lost you—I don’t even want to—” He stuttered. “I would have never forgiven—”

“Jake.”

You pressed your palm over his mouth to stop the flood of words. He was such an idiot sometimes, wasn't he? No, he was most of the time.

“I know, okay?” you said. “I know. So, just,,, shut up and kiss me, okay?"

Jake did not need to be told twice, and leaned in.

The kiss was messy at first, desperate and apologetic, too, full of all the things neither of you had managed to say during the argument. You guessed both of you were at fault for this, and both of you were far too hotheaded that you couldn't just calm down and talk. His hands tightened at your sides like he needed the reassurance that you weren't going to leave.

“You scare the hell outta me sometimes."

TONOWARI

The village had not known peace since the sunrise.

No, more like since the Sullies appeared.

Messengers moved constantly between the clans near the islands, carrying reports of Sky People ships spotted too close to the reefs. Hunters argued over patrol routes. Mothers pulled their children to make sure they wouldn't go around swimming at places they weren't supposed to. Even the ilu seemed restless beneath the darkening waves.

And at the center of all, Tonowari was trying to give reassurance to his people, even though he himself was just as worried about the future as the rest.

You had watched him all day as he settled disputes between anxious clan members, organized extra patrols along the coast to make sure the enemy wouldn't come too close without any of them noticing, and sent warnings to nearby Tulkun to avoid those ships made of metal.

It looked like every problem in the village seemed to find its way to him eventually.

And, during all of this, every time you tried to approach him, someone else needed his attention first. By the time night fell, your irritation had settled into something clearly visible to the eye, despite knowing better.

The moon hung low over the ocean when you finally found him by himself. It was unusual for him not to say anything to you. Especially so, when you knew that he knew you had been waiting for a moment to talk to him.

Tonowari sat alone near the edge of the water as he repaired the broken shaft of a fishing spear under the faint moonlight. His large hands worked restlessly, carefully wrapping cord around the wood while waves rolled softly against the shore nearby.

The village behind him had finally quieted down a bit. Everyone was likely too tired to wander around at night at this point.

Only the distant sounds of the sea remained now, the crash of waves, the chirping of night insects, and the occasional splash of playful fish farther out in the water.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Tonowari continued working, though you knew immediately he was aware of your presence. His ears flicked once in your direction, you had not missed that. He was probably hoping that you would be the first one to break the silence, but alas.

“You are angry with me,” he said at last, once it was clear it wouldn't be you who made the first move.

“You ignored me all day.”

“The clan needed me,” he replied simply.

Which was true. This was the frustrating part. You knew the weight he carried better than anyone, as his mate. The Metkayina looked to him for safety, for guidance. Especially now, with the threat of war creeping closer to their home more than ever before.

But lately, it felt like every burden was pushing him farther and farther away from you.

This had never happened before, and this, the unknown of the situation, scared you.

“You seem fine with speaking to everyone else,” you said quietly. You couldn't help but sound a bit bitter about it, too.

That finally made him stop.

Tonowari set the spear aside and turned toward you. “I did not mean to make you feel unseen,” he said.

Your irritation with him faltered, then. How could it not, when he looked so sincere?

Tonowari had never been good at hiding his emotions from you. His eyes were too honest for it, large and open like the sea itself. Even now, while he was still tired and burdened, you could see the regret for his unintentional ignorance plainly across his face.

“You must understand,” he said, “when the clan is threatened, my whole focus is on them and I can't help—”

You rolled your eyes before he could even finish and stepped forward, grabbing the front of his chest to pull him closer.

“Tonowari…” you sighed. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

The man froze, and his eyes flickered briefly to your mouth before lifting back to meet your gaze again, and suddenly, he looked almost uncertain. He still did as he was told, however, and leaned in to meet you halfway.

The kiss was slow at first, but the moment your lips fully touched, all the tension he had carried seemed to unravel at once, and his forehead rested against yours.

“We are partners,” you said, then. “We are supposed to support one another. How can I, if you keep me out?”

Tonowari met your gaze once more, then, and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You are right. I am sorry. I was being foolish, as always.”

That got you to chuckle, finally, “You got that right, at least.”

TSU’TEY

You had been watching Tsu'tey lose himself for months now.

Not publicly, of course. Tsu’tey would rather throw himself from the Hallelujah Mountains than let the clan witness him breaking apart. To everyone else, he was still the proud warrior of the Omatikaya. Strong, disciplined, and calm.

But you knew better than that. You saw it in the tension that never left his shoulders anymore. Sleep abandoned him night after night. In the bitterness that sharpened his voice whenever JakeSully’s name was spoken aloud, and grief that he so adamantly refused to even talk about, clouded his judgment.

That night, the clan celebrated after a successful hunt. Music echoed through the Hometree, drums beating in a steady rhythm while children laughed and dancers moved around the great fires as Ninat sang with her beautiful voice.

But Tsu’tey was nowhere near the celebration.

Of course, he wasn't.

At least, you had a pretty good idea where he would be.

After dinner, you slipped away quietly while the others were distracted, and the forest swallowed the sounds of the celebration the farther you walked, until eventually only the hum of the forest remained.

You found him sitting beside the Tree of Voices. He was sitting with his legs crossed, sharpening a knife that honestly did not need any more sharpening at this point.

“You should be with the others,” he said without looking up at you.

He always noticed you immediately, even when you tried to sneak up on him. Honestly, it was as if he had two extra ears that helped him hear.

Ignoring the comment, you sat beside him. Tsu’tey kept his eyes lowered to the knife in his hands, pretending as if your presence changed nothing. But you knew him too well by now to fall for that.

“You are angry again."

"I have my reasons."

There it was. That simmering bitterness beneath his skin, always threatening to boil over.

You sighed. “Honestly, Tsu’tey, JakeSully is not even that—”

“Do not speak to me of him," he snarled at you. He had not raised his voice, but it still stung all the same.

Your ears flicked back slightly. “You push everyone away,” you said, then. “If you keep this up, you will have no one, Tsu’tey.”

The man scoffed bitterly.

“You do not know what you are talking about,” he said next in return. “You have never lost anyone. You do not know what misfortune the Sky People bring.”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to just ask, “...Is this about Sylwanin?”

“It is not that!”

Tsu’tey stood abruptly and paced away from one tree to the other. His tail lashed behind him, agitated, while his hands clenched at his sides.

“I feel this impending doom,” he said. His voice was tight with frustration, “and no one is listening. It is as if Eywa is changing the path beneath my feet, and I am not even allowed to question why without everyone judging me.”

You stayed silent. Tsu’tey looked genuinely upset with himself for even saying the words aloud, as though questioning Eywa’s path was some terrible blasphemy.

At least it will help him to calm down a bit, you thought.

“Everything has been changing because of him!” he continued. “The clan changed—Neytiri also did—everything, as if everyone already forgot what happened at GraceAugustine’s school, and—”

He cut himself off with a frustrated hiss and turned his face away from you. “…You should leave,” he muttered, then. “I will find you once I clear my head, okay?”

You did get up, but did not walk away. Instead, you reached out to him, and, with a gentle hand on his back, made him face you.

"Tsu'tey..." you said. "Shut up and kiss me."

The man's ears pinned back slightly in surprise, and for half a second, he almost looked offended, as if he could not believe you would actually interrupt his spiraling thoughts with something like this.

The moment your lips touched his, however, he melted and loosened against you like he always did.

“This big head of yours is always so full,” you said with a sigh of your own. “…I wish it did not cause you this much grief.”

COLONEL QUARITCH

It was raining as if it were the end of the world. The wind was so strong it was rattling the abandoned RDA outpost you and Quaritch had taken shelter in, and every few minutes, a thunder in the distance lit the room before it was dark again.

The mission had gone completely to Hell, to say the leasr.

Sully’s patrol had spotted you and Quaritch far earlier than either of you had anticipated, and what should have been a clean reconnaissance run turned into a desperate retreat through the forest with at least a dozen Na'vi behind you.

Somehow, both of you did manage to throw them off your tails, but Quaritch had still taken an arrow through the shoulder during all of this.

And now he was sitting shirtless on top of a rusted supply crate while you tried to patch him up with an old medkit you had found in this dumb.

The only problem was that he would not shut the fuck up.

“You pull a stunt like that again,” he growled while you wrapped fresh bandages around his shoulder, “I’m gonna personally drag your ass back to base myself. You can forget about going into any other mission after that, too.”

You rolled your eyes and deliberately tugged the bandage tighter than necessary. And, of course, this made Quaritch hiss in pain.

Good.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you shot back. “That arrow would’ve pierced your empty head if it wasn’t for me, you know?”

“As if,” he spat back immediately. “I had everything under control before you decided to be reckless.”

“You were about to get shot.”

“And you almost did instead!” he barked back. “I am the top dog here, princess. I give the orders, you all follow them, that’s it. How the hell am I supposed to keep you alive if you don’t trust me to make the right decision?”

You snorted and stood to grab some supplies from a nearby crate.

“I don’t need you to be my daddy, Quaritch,” you said. “I know how to keep myself in one piece, thank you very much.”

“That confidence is exactly what’s gonna get you killed one day.”

You got a bottle of stale water and a few painkillers from the medkit before tossing them into his lap.

“And the constant talking is what’s gonna get you killed, big guy.”

Quaritch grumbled something under his breath but took the pills anyway. He swallowed them dry before draining the entire bottle of water in one long gulp. It would still take some time until they helped with the pain, however.

For exactly three seconds, there was silence. Then he started at it again.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” he repeated for the dozenth time, and wiped the sweat and rainwater from his jaw. “I am your Colonel. Does the chain of command mean nothing to you?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. You honestly could not help it at this point. “Are you physically incapable of shutting up?”

“You think this is funny?”

“No, I just think you’re impossible to please.”

The room fell quiet after that, and Quaritch's expression changed into something you couldn't tell what it meant. Then, before you knew it, the man suddenly stood and threw the empty bottle against the wall, making the rest of the water splash all around the ground with a little thud.

“You don’t run into live fire for me,” he barked at you. “Never. Got it?”

“And what,” you shot back immediately. If Quaritch thought swinging his big dick would make you back down, he was stupider than you had given him credit for. “you’re allowed to throw yourself in front of bullets for me, but I’m supposed to sit there and watch?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I know what I’m doing.”

You barked out a disbelieving laugh and gestured aggressively toward his shoulder. “Right. Says the guy bleeding through two layers of bandages.”

Quaritch looked down, then. And, sure enough, blood had already started seeping through the fresh wrapping again. You could say whatever you want about the Na'vi, but they sure as hell would have made good snipers, that's for sure.

“You know what I mea—”

This was it. You cut him off by grabbing the front of his vest and yanking him toward you.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Quaritch. Got it?”

That finally got him to shut up for a moment.

The man blinked down at you, clearly caught off guard for perhaps the first time in arguably both of your short lives. How long had it been since you woke up in this new body? Six months? Seven? You had no idea anymore.

“…Christ,” he muttered, then, but his hand slid around your waist nonetheless before he leaned down to kiss you as you ordered.

You stumbled backward slightly as he pulled you closer. He really did kiss like he was still furious, didn't he? Always so dramatic, always so worried, and definitely needy. You couldn't help but chuckle against his lips.

Once he was satisfied and breathing harder than before, he rested his forehead briefly against yours and closed his eyes. "You drive me absolutely insane, you know that?”

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

NORM SPELLMAN

The biolab was quiet, and some of the equipment hummed softly in the background while pale, blue monitor lights flickered. Samples, tablets, lots and lots of different papers, and just as many abandoned coffee mugs were scattered everywhere, and the rain tapped against the glass ceiling, too.

Yeah, it was definitely way too late for either of you to be still awake.

Norm was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside an open supply crate, sorting carefully through rows of sample containers while muttering half-coherent thoughts to himself under his breath.

You were technically supposed to be helping him, but instead, you were sprawled across one of the cots nearby, just watching.

“You know,” you said lazily, “normal people sleep at least once a day.”

Norm snorted. “Yeah, well, normal people also don’t discover potentially symbiotic fungal networks growing through the roots of— hold on, where’d my scanner go?”

“It’s literally in your hand, dude.”

He looked down, “…Oh.”

You burst out laughing, and a faint blush immediately crept across Nom's face, though he tried very hard to pretend it was not at all there.

“You’re impossible sometimes, Norm.”

“It’s fine,” the man said. “This is very important, you know?”

“Yeah, I do know,” you sighed dramatically. “Because you already explained it to me, like, six times or something.”

“And yet I still feel like you’re not appreciating the significance.”

“That’s because every explanation somehow turns into a lecture.”

“It is not a lecture,” Norm argued back. “It’s context. There is a difference."

“You used the phrase ‘cross-species biochemical reciprocity’ three separate times.”

“Because that’s what it is!”

You groaned one more time and slid off the cot onto the floor, staring at the ceiling in defeat.

Usually, you liked listening to him ramble. Really, you did. But sometimes Norm’s nerdiness became genuinely unstoppable once he got excited enough, and it became impossible to get him to bed.

This happened more of then these days, and this meant he was getting even less sleep than he usually did.

“You can go to bed if I’m boring you so much,” he said. He tried not to sound bothered, but you knew better than to fall for that.

You turned at him immediately. "You're not boring me."

Norm gave you a look in return. “You literally started staring at the ceiling halfway through my explanation.”

“I was multitasking, thank you very much.”

“Sure. Because that is something people do.” He then rubbed a tired hand over his face. He was clearly exhausted but somehow still determined to finish his little experiment.

“I just—okay, look,” he started again, shifting closer to his tablet. “If this data’s right, it could explain why certain Pandoran plant systems react to neural energy the way they do, which means Grace’s old theories might’ve been—”

“Oh my God,” you mumbled into your hands, this could not be starting again, then, you glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was already four in the goddamn morning.

Absolutely not.

With a huff, you pushed yourself upright and crossed the room before Norm could launch into another ten-minute explanation about neural pathways or fungal symbiosis or whatever scientific tangent he was currently spiraling into.

He barely had time to look up before you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you.

“Shut up and kiss me, you idiot,” you said firmly. “Or would you rather continue with your little science experiment instead?”

As you had known it would, Norm's eyes widened, the man frozen in place, as you settled yourself onto his lap, effectively trapping him between you and the supply crate behind him.

He then stuttered, "W-what was I even doing? I've got no idea."