A hobbyist: streamer, writer and rare ship enjoyer

It was just Killingham's luck that his first mission outside Mariejois ended up weird. It was supposed to be easy. Guard a letter so important and secretive that he wasn't told what's in it, being transported on a fucking civilian ship. Not even a Marine warship. Or a CP one. Or just an official Government or Celestial ship.

No, he had to share space with Low World dwellers. And be surrounded by water.

He was miserable. Glaring at anyone who dared to look at him. Ignoring the guy wrapped in a cape, face hidden behind his scarf and shadow of his hat, unless he was eating far too much for it to be normal. Not that Killingham ate unless he felt like it. And even then, he only ate dream food. So what does he know? Just that no one else ate that much in one sitting. He only came to the dining hall to keep an eye on everyone.

And then everything went to shit. Two separate pirate crews attacked at once. And seeing as his orders were to protect the envelope with all his strength. And he didn't need a ship. So he fought the pirates with no regard for the ship. He didn't need it.

But he wasn't the only one. The bundled-up glutton fought too. Rambling about nonsense that Killingham ignored. He had Devil Fruit powers too. Some fiery bird zoan. Not awakened, so Killingham didn't pay him much mind. But actively tried not to kill too fast. He was a useful distraction.

In the end, the ship was sunk, and Killingham and the bird-freak ended up on a deserted island nearby. He needed a minute to check the direction he was supposed to go to deliver the letter. Why was he even delivering it? So annoying.

"Is the bubble so you can breathe? But there's no water in it? Did you run out?" the freak asked, removing his hat to look around better without it in the way.

"No. It's exactly as it's meant to be," Killingham huffed, hating having to use Low World's common language. 

"So you're not a fish? But you've got golden teeth."

Killingham blinked. Okay, time to kill this guy. Or at least knock him out, so he shuts up.

But his power wasn't working. And it was just then he realised his left arm was feeling weird. And he was hungry. For the first time since he received the Great One's Mark.

"Whatever you're talking about, this island is weirder," Killingham huffed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "And I can't be related to fish, I hate water."

"If you're not with fish, then whatever has our devil fruits not working is," the freak decided. "Sabo," he introduced himself, flashing silver teeth caps. So Low World noble. Okay, he might be crazy, but at least technically he wasn't the worst option.

Myriad eyes darting around unblinking. Wildfire ravaging a deserted island. Wings beat over open seas. Scarred hands reaching for a fraying rope.

His haki certainly pointed to him being insane. Insane people could be easily manipulated. "Limosiv Killingham. We're the only survivors," Killingham stated the obvious as Sabo stuffed his scarf, cape and hat into his bag. It would seem this guy had no idea what golden teeth mean, so best keep him in the dark if he's to use him.

"I forgot what temperatures feel like. And that's more of a mouthful than any name I recall hearing. Too complicated for a fish to use," he decided, straightening up.

He wasn't bad-looking. The scars Killingham didn't mind. Or even how off his left eye was. His hair was messy and wild, but clearly recently and well cared for. His clothes, while patched up and clearly well used, were also cared for and of good quality. And there were his silver tooth caps/

An insane Low World noble.

"I'll call you Killi, it's much easier. Want to look for whatever fish-thing is messing with our powers together?" Insane Sabo asked.

"Give me a second first, I need to check something," at the very least he could be used as a meat shield in case his regeneration wasn't woking as it should as well as it should. If whatever was here was messing with the Great One's Mark, then it had to be investigated.

Grumbling, he removed his uniform jacket and the left sleeve of his button-up shirt under it. The Mark was still there, looking normal. Good. 

"What is that?" Sabo asked from where he was crouching, eating an apple he got who knows from where. His seemingly bottomless bag? Maybe.

"Anti-fish ward," Killingham shrugged, and his stomach decided to remind him about itself. Hunger was annoying. The lack of doubt proved that his insane status would be useful.

"Hungry?" Sabo asked, offering him an apple. So it did come from his bag.

If he accepted, he'd need to remove his helmet. But if he tries going without any food, it'll get annoying and problematic. "Fine, yes," he sighed as his stomach growled again. Screw it, his priority was investigating here and returning to his mission as fast as possible.

Sabo was grinning and complaining about fish being out to get him. Even apologised for dragging him into it. What a weirdo, Killingham thought as he accepted the apple. It looked like a normal apple—no signs of tampering. So he pressed the button that retracted his helmet and took a bite. It tasted like a normal apple. Like the ones he included in his picnics. 

"We can go," he said between bites. Sabo nodded and took a deep breath. "So you know observation."

"What now? It has a name?" the mad man asked.

Killingham sighed. "It's dangerous to learn haki on your own," he murmured as they followed whatever piqued Sabo's interest. Nothing really stood out to him as he scanned the island. Not that his observation was that advanced. Probably still better than Sabo's self-taught mess.

Sabo shrugged. "It helps with flying."

He just hummed as they ventured into the jungle. Now, how far can he trust an insane individual? There was a well-working part in his clearly broken mind. It was fascinating to watch it try to keep his body on track despite the fish nonsense. 

"What is your Devil Fruit even?" Killingham asked. He did see his wings and feathers set themselves on fire in the earlier fight.

"Someone once called it Firebird. I don't know much about it, but it's useful," Sabo shrugged and stopped looking about and chewing his already scarred lips. "This way," he decided their direction seemingly at random. 

With a sigh, Killingham extended his observation just to check. There was something there. Well, not quite. More the opposite of something. A void in an otherwise full-of-life jungle. He really should have noticed it earlier. But again, his training didn't focus on observation aside from what's necessary. 

They probably should be looking for a way off the island and away from this if they were normal. But Killingham has to investigate this anomaly, and Sabo is insane.

Sabo led them to a cave. A dark cave. And neither of them could use their powers to light it up. "I think I have a torch, just in case," Sabo hummed and started digging in his bag. Meanwhile, Killingham tried penetrating the weird void with his observation.

No luck there. But Sabo did indeed have a torch with him. And his bag must have been bottomless with how he fit his whole arm there.

"I'm taller, so I can carry it," Killingham offered, just then remembering he left his trident in his dream cloud. Sabo didn't argue, so in they went. 

It was unnervingly silent in the cave. Even their heartbeats and footsteps were gone. His brain was screaming at him to leave. But they kept going deeper and deeper.

Until they found a bear. As they braced for it to charge, all it did was release a pained growl. It was a brown bear, but on the back of its neck, there was a weird pale purple gem radiating light.

"I think that rock is what we're looking for," Sabo said and bit his lips to the point of them bleeding slightly.

With the bear too weak to even move, they came up closer to investigate. "That's just nasty," Killingham huffed. He did enjoy making his enemies suffer, but this was a bit too far. He'd finished the bear off a long time ago. This was beyond fun levels of torture.

"Messed up scaly fuckers. There's no helping it," Sabo decided, and with a swift stab of his dagger to the bear's neck, cut its suffering. As soon as the bear was dead, the sound beyond them talking returned, and the crystal fell off to the ground, breaking into several pieces on impact.

They waited for something to happen for a long, tense moment. 

Killingham? Report?

He really didn't need Garling's voice in his head at the moment. Met an unexpected interruption. Devil Fruit and Mark weren't working. Dealt with it for now.

"We should take some samples with us and get rid of the rest somehow," Sabo's voice broke him out of the unnerving silence from Garling. 

"I can take care of it," Killingham sighed as he summoned his cloud. It should be safe in the dream realm.

Someone will meet you on Vesper Island to discuss in detail.

Killingham nearly jumped at the order. Well, detailed communication via Mark wasn't the best, so it made sense. And it not working was worrying more than his Devil Fruit not working. It was the first time anything had ever disturbed it.

"Are you sure?"

"It should be harmless without a host," Killingham shrugged, and Sabo wrapped the crystals in some fabric scraps from his bag. 

Got company, seems useful.

Relying on your judgement there.

Okay, this had even Garling and presumably the Elders, stumped. Maybe even the Great One. And it would probably stay in his hands, considering he was getting Sabo involved. And he honestly thought having someone in the dark about Marks and general Kight business would be useful. Sabo could go places they wouldn't be able to without causing a big mess. And was disposable.

"What now?" Sabo asked, his own sample in his bag and the rest in the cloud.

"We leave. I have to get to Vesper Island," Killingham shrugged, pulling out the eternal log pose he had for the sake of his other mission.

"We could go there together. My log pose broke," Sabo sighed, waving what was remaining of it. 

When did it happen? When they landed on the island? During the fight? No matter. It gave him a chance to manipulate Sabo into working for him. "Sure, why not?" he shrugged, and after ditching the torch, they left the cave. No need for it if Sabo can just have burning feathers float around them. Fascinating.

Killingham even invited Sabo to share his cloud with him as they flew off towards Vesper. Sabo was rambling theories of what fish might be plotting. He was quite convinced this whole thing was a trap and not a coincidence. It was quite amusing.

Vesper was… an island. He'd probably like it more if he didn't immediately sense Sommers. At least Shamrock was there too. "Go find a restaurant, I need to talk to my contacts first. Top secret Knight business. I'll find you when I'm done," he told Sabo, who, as expected, didn't protest.

"Picked up a pet?" Sommers asked as soon as Killi joined him and Shamrock in the dark alley.

"Don't be gross. He's just a useful tool for my surprise investigation," Killingham huffed. He couldn't deny it being tempting to keep Sabo around. But he wasn't the type to keep pets. "A disposable but durable tool."

"Whatever, father approved, so it doesn't matter. What happened?" Shamrock stopped them from arguing over it. 

So Killingham explained everything shortly. The ship being attacked. The emergency island and his powers not working. How he ended up working with Sabo.

"He's crazy, as long as I make whatever I want from him align with his delusions, he'll do it," he finished with a shrug.

"It's a good idea to have someone who knows nothing investigate for you. He's fully disposable," Shamrock nodded, glancing where Sabo was waiting for Killingham outside a restaurant. 

"Your taste in men is weird," Sommers chuckled.

"Stop being gross," Killingham rolled his eyes and passed the envelope he was meant to deliver to Shamrock. "I'll establish a line of communication, solidify his trust and then come back to give a proper report," he said and went to rejoin his insane, but preferable to Sommers' company from earlier.

"Hi," Sabo grinned barely over the edge of his scarf.

"Let's feed you and talk," Killi decided, practically dragging Sabo into the restaurant. He could swear he heard Sommers snickering through the Mark connection. Asshole.

Just a quick flash of his golden fangs had them in a private room, and the whole menu aside from anything with fish or milk was being delivered for them. 

"I don't need to eat as long as everything works as it should," Killingham assured as food arrived. Well, first serving. "So, why are you alone in the New World?"

"Travelling, avoiding fish and their agents," Sabo shrugged, flashing his fangs. D-fangs. Well, fuck. 

"Have you always had these fangs?" he asked, leaning back as casually as he could allow himself around a D.

"Don't think so. My memories are all jumbled. All fish's fault. I do remember my brothers having fangs like these. No silver or gold, though," Sabo hummed above a plate of pasta with tomato sauce.

In short, Sabo was a Low World noble from East Blue. Ran away from home. Met some D kids, got inDucted. Nearly died - blames fish for it - and stuck on a deserted island. Build a raft and left it and has been on the move ever since. Didn't stay in one place for long. Got in so many fights with pirates and marines that he got a bounty put on his head.

And likely as a side effect of nearly dying, he's mildly insane now. Lost a lot of his memories, and what he does remember is a jumbled mess.

Not that Killingham cared that much. He's useful. Not overly annoying, even somewhat pleasant to look at. And most importantly, easy to control so long as you can bear his nonsense rambling. Growing up around Sommers and Garling, Killingham was good at filtering out unnecessary chatter.

And he was maybe, just maybe, distracted by watching Sabo eat…. He never saw a D, much less someone inDucted eat up close. Or at all before this assignment. Well, previous assignment now.

"We should get snail phones; only the other knows the number off, but that store is probably closed by now," Killingham proposed, carefully observing Sabo enjoying his lactose- and calorie-free dessert he pulled out of the dream realm. 

"That's a great idea, we should get vivre cards too so we can find each other in case fish find us," Sabo nodded enthusiastically. Was he just that trusting, or was it because Killingham was going along with his fish nonsense?

"Tomorrow, today we get a room and rest. I'm tired." He didn't need as much sleep as a normal mortal, but unlike with food, he still needed some.

The restaurant refused to accept his money. Only saying it's an honour to host him and his friend. At the only local hotel he deemed good enough (far below his usual standard, but he didn't even need a bed. They, of course, also didn't want his money.

"Why does no one want you to pay for anything?" Sabo was already investigating the wardrobe.

"You have no idea what Celestial Dragons are, do you? Bed's all yours," Killingham sighed and summoned a cloud, pulling out a perfect recreation of his pillow out of it.

Sabo stood there for a second, head tilted. "If I ever did, I must have forgotten," he eventually shrugged and dragged the bedding to the wardrobe.

"You're making a nest or something? Since your Devil Fruit is a bird," he asked, settling on his cloud.

"It just feels safer to have walls close," he shrugged, and once satisfied, climbed in. "But it might be that too. Birds are cool. Unlike fish."

"We don't have many birds in Mariejois. There are Manmayer's peacocks. And the hunting hawks. Most are Figarland's, though. Speaking of, most wine we have there is Figarland wine, not that I can get drunk anyway," Killingham rambled as he curled up.

"Ravens and crows like me, they bring me shiny things, apparently I remind them of someone," Sabo chuckled.

When Killingham woke up, Sabo was already awake but still in the closet. Watching him, his left eye drifting off slightly. "Morning," the insane amnesiac grinned, his fangs startling the Celestial for just a second.

"Mornin' let's have breakfast and do our errands," he yawned, getting up and dismissing the cloud.

All their errands went pretty fast. Killingham had a feeling that news of him being a Celestial had already spread, and everyone was fast-tracking whatever he wanted. Good, it was saving him time. They even got a new log pose for Sabo. And a backup just in case.

Standing on the dock after lunch, preparing to leave, Killingham found himself unwilling to let go of this madman he had literally just met. This was just pathetic. He's no Sommers to just drag mortals along whenever he's on a mission. He doesn't do attachments. Attachments just hurt you.

Well, he would see him again. He could go and see him whenever when not busy. Other knights went all over between assignments. Not that he would want to after a week back.

So why. In the Great One's name. Did he decide kissing Sabo's scarred left cheek was a good idea? He was about to fly away when he was pulled down, and the gesture was returned. A soft, unsure peck on his cheek. Why did he never activate his bubble again?

"Watch out for the fish, Killi." Sabo grinned, cheeks slightly pink.