#onepiecefandom

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Umbra’s voice rasped out the last syllables of her promise softly into the morning as her eyes blinked open, thick lashes brushing the pillow beneath her. For a moment she just laid there, half-swallowed by the stiff blanket thrown haphazardly across her mattress.

She groaned, then rolled over onto her back. “Another dream of when life was good..” Soon an exhaled breath she didn’t know she’d been holding released from her lungs. “Or as good as it got.” 

Her quarters were dim, lit only by a thin crack of morning light bleeding through the slats of a boarded-up window. Dust motes swirled in the shaft of gold like slow-falling ash. The walls were empty, save for a faded map curled up on one side and a rusted nail where a lantern used to hang. Of course, this is not anyone’s ideal place to sleep, but it was enough for her.

For Umbra, however, her eyes weren’t looking at the room around her with early morning eyes. They were rather searching for something. And it didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. 

A looming, pitch-black shape that wasn’t shaped like anything human, but almost was, stood in the corner of the room farthest from the morning light. At least ten feet tall, its form refractioning with wisps of what looks like smoke and black fire emanating from every surface on it. The only things truly real and undeniable about it were the eyes—blood red, unblinking, swirling like a crude animation and watching.

“Hey, you.” Umbra raised a hand in greeting, the corners of her lips curling slightly in a weak smile. 

The figure tilted its head, raising a hand in return, long fingers splitting from the darkness to show each digit, mimicking her wave.

“You know…” she muttered as she sat up, brushing hair out of her face, “you’re creepy sometimes. One of these days, you’ll scare me to death.”

The shadow reeled back dramatically, hands up like it was scandalized, or made some sort of offense, shaking its head in exaggerated denial. It didn’t speak. It never spoke. It could only move and use gestures. 

Umbra chuckled under her breath at its frantic. “Kidding, kidding. I’m getting up now. You’re good to go.”

The figure slowly lowered its arms, stilled, and then—after what looked a nod—faded into the corner it came from, melting back into darkness while the small line at its feet retraced back to its origin, that being the weak form of Umbra’s shadow on the floor.

She sat there in silence for a moment, her expression unreadable as she recounted the nights imagery. “You’d think after all this time… I’d move on.” Her voice was thin, bitter at the edges. “But I can’t.”

Her fingers ran through her long, sleep-tangled hair—ashen black and blonde locks slipping through her hands like ribbons—and finally forcing herself to her feet.

There was no time for dreaming.

Not when survival had her name still written in bold lettering. 

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It was well into the early-mid afternoon when Umbra emerged from the little hut she had harbored herself in.

The town was small and sunburned, perched on the crumbling edge of an island slowly dying, like a bad limb on a tree. Wooden homes with mismatched shingles sagged under the early noon heat, their windows cracked open in hopes of catching a breeze. Umbra walked its narrow dirt paths with her hood up and head lowered, boots quiet over cobblestone and sand.

She kept her eyes on the ground. The less anyone saw, the better.

Weeks had passed since she'd washed up here with nothing but a bruised rib and a half-dead smile. It wasn't a safe place, not truly—nowhere ever was—but it was tucked far enough from any Marine outpost or patrolling lanes to give her breathing room. Long enough to gather supplies and wait for a passing ship that didn’t ask questions.

Though as days went by, the nervousness in her chest grew. The island was smaller than most, but not so small that passing vessels wouldn’t consider docking here. On the outside it just seemed too much of a hassle to drop anchor then take off as soon as they had come.

No one here knew her name. Her real one, has never been disclosed to the public so far, which she had in fact found odd. But her nickname that was, carried theories upon theories behind it, possibly reaching to the far ends of the world including this little floating slab of sand and rock. It doesn’t help that she found out the hard way through the papers how it exaggerated everything regarding her in the 'name of more sales.' 

For the most part, she was just the quiet girl who smelled faintly of smoke and never bartered with anything. Just staying in her own lane. 

Until today.

The sound of boots—loud, heavy ones—struck the air like drums.

She didn't need to look to know who they were. That sort of gloatful strut only belonged to one type of being;

Pirates.

Loud-mouthed, cocky bastards, laughing like they owned the damn sun itself, with townsfolk shrinking away into doorways and shopkeepers pretending to sweep or even abruptly closing their doors as they approached into the heart of town.

Umbra kept walking. Her fists stayed at her sides, tight. ‘Don’t look up. Don’t make eye contact. Just keep moving, and you'll be fine.’

And of course, fate had to laugh in her face.

She bumped shoulders with one of them. Hard.

“OI!” the man barked, turning sharply. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Umbra exhaled slowly, her head still down. She could hear the other crew members stopping and turning.  ‘Shit.’

“Didn’t your parents teach you how to walk, sweetheart?” the pirate sneered, stepping in front of her to block her path. “Or are you just that stupid?”

“I don’t have parents,” she said coldly, brushing past him without looking. “They died a long time ago, after I stopped listening to the crap they'd say.” At own her words, those legs started to move once again, having absolutely no interest in fighting right now.

It was a throwaway line. A defense mechanism. But it hit something just right within her—to be able to say that—freely on her own without repercussions for stepping out of line, or spewing words that’d sully their name.

But the pirate’s expression twisted into mockery. “That explains a lot. Someone’s got a mouth on her,” he spat. “Maybe we should teach you some respect.”

Another one laughed behind him. “Captain’s bounty is up to 50,000 Berri now. This brat thinks she’s better than us?”

Umbra stopped, and slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder right at them. Her copper-gold eyes- comparable to the gemstone Tiger’s Eye- gleamed under the shadow of her hood. Her expression was flat—but her voice, when it came, was laced with dry amusement.

“Fifty Thousand Berri?” she echoed, and laughed—a tired, cynical little sound that made them blink in confusion. She even wiped a fake tear from her eye. “That’s adorable.”

The captain’s grin faltered. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Essentially,” She paused, stifling a weak chuckle into the sleeve of her crop top. “I just said you have a pitiful bounty. You flaunt it around like it’s something to really be proud of.”

It was a dumb move. Her mouth will get her killed someday. But the truth was, she couldn’t help it. Her pride, one she had started to grow into from a young age of being groomed and pampered, had teeth and an appetite to bite.

Out in the open like this, she was defenseless. But that doesn’t mean she has no fight in her. She had her voice but sometimes it was just as bad as her abilities. 

And right now, it was enough to piss someone off.

“Grab her,” the pirate snarled. “We’ll see if she’s still laughing while she’s on her knees.”

That cockiness of a smile slowly flipped, and she cursed under her breath. “Goddamn it.” Then, she ran.

She bolted down the alley behind a bakery, dodging crates of stock and empty barrels that lined against the old wooden buildings. A line of laundry strung with half-dry sheets just ahead, and she had to duck to avoid getting strangled. Her boots skidded over loose gravel trying to weave through the dilapidated buildings. Yet she moved on instinct—old tricks born from dirt and blood and years spent being trained and observing tactics while stealing under her own will to live.

Her hand knocked over barrels as she passed, sent baskets of produce flying, kicked crates into the road to slow them down. She leapt over a wall, slid down the tiled roof of a tailor’s hut, and hit the ground running.

Yelling exploded behind her—those heavy beats of footsteps came crashing, blades drawn, men shoving each other aside to get at her first.

Then came curses, a loud crash and someone screaming about a broken nose after face planting into the ground from the fallen debris.

She took a quick glance while twisting around a tight corner and—

Thud.

Her shoulder slammed into something once again. Moreso, someone solid.

Very solid.

It was like running into a wall made of heat and muscle. She ricocheted off the stranger and hit the ground with a gasp, hood falling back and resting on her shoulders.

A low voice grunted in surprise.

“Oi—what the hell?”

Umbra blinked up through loose strands of blond hair that made up her bangs, dazed. 

The man standing over her had a sharp jawline, golden hair tousled by the wind, and a cigarette still miraculously unbroken in his mouth. He wore a black tuxedo with mint green button-up undershirt with a blue and white striped tie around the collar. But the thing that stood out the most was the one eyebrow oddly curled beneath his bangs as he looked her over.

Then something in his eyes changed. They went from startled to soft. And then from soft to smoldering. “Oh. Hello, mademoiselle,” he purred, dropping into a crouch beside her. “Are you alright? You didn’t hurt those delicate limbs of yours, did you?”

Umbra slowly blinked, dumbfounded. “What.”

“I must be dreaming,” he suddenly said dramatically, holding out a hand. “An angel fell into my arms!”

‘Oh no,’ she thought. ‘He’s one of those.’ She barely had time to process it all before angry voices rounded the corner.

“There she is!!” The pirates skidded into view, weapons raised.

Umbra’s eyes widened, and turned back toward the blond stranger. 

“Are they… are they after you?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

She met his gaze—and made a choice. One she cringed at internally. She reached out and curled her hands into his tux and shirt, eyes blown wide, putting every ounce of terror and sweetness she could into her voice. “Y-yes… Please help me!”

And something snapped behind his eyes.

The stranger stood slowly—elegantly—and picked her up in one smooth motion, bridal-style. His cigarette dropped from his lips and was crushed underfoot, like an act to save her lungs from inhaling the burning tobacco.

“I see,” he said darkly, eyes burning. “You dare chase a lady like wild dogs?”

The pirates faltered. One of them started to snicker. “What the hell’s your problem, huh? You want to die for some—”

FWOOOSH.

His foot ignited, a bright swirl of fire enveloped his leg, casting long shadows across the alleyway. It burned just as much as his eyes did as they narrowed at the men.

Then the womans own widened.

Oh. Oh.

It clicked.

“You’re—” she breathed, heart jumping.

The man smiled with the weight of his emotions behind it, proud to be recognized by beauty. “Sanji,” he said simply. “And you guys picked the wrong day to piss me off.”

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Soon enough the streets were a blur of color, panic, and heat as Sanji bolted through the market district—Umbra tucked securely in his arms, her breath shallow against his neck. Her skin felt feverish, not from sickness, but from tension, from running from one pirate, then right into the arms of another. The irony was laughable. 

While there wasn’t any odd rumor about the Chef for the Straw Hat crew (other than him being an enormous womanizer) it was the fact that he was another pirate, one that held her body close to him.

Because in her eyes, pirates are pirates. There wasn’t a single ‘good’ crew out there (as far as she's aware) that did the literal opposite of the label's definition. She’s seen crews act like a savior then betray anyone the moment the chance came. Promises made then easily broken. Allies to enemies.

Behind them, the pirates she’d run from gave chase, yelling threats, brandishing rusted blades and pistols. They moved like a drunken pack of dogs, far too noisy to be professional, and far too aggressive to be left standing. The pride of their Captain’s name had been smudged- and they wouldn’t allow anyone to walk free from that.

Sanji, however, didn’t stop running. Not until he reached a wider street, turned sharply into a quieter alley, purposely away from civilians and let his voice drop low and dangerous. “You lot really want to do this?” He didn’t put Umbra down. Instead, he turned with her still in his arms—his grip protective, unshaking—and glared.

The pirates froze. There was something in his eyes. Something wild.

“Black Leg Sanji,” one of them gasped. “That’s—”

“—Right,” He finished.

He gently adjusted Umbra in his arms, one leg bending slightly as flames ignited down the length of his other just like earlier. The orange/yellow fire crackled to life, licking the pavement, casting flickering shadows on the alley walls. “You touch a woman like that…” Sanji muttered, voice dripping with venom, “...and you don’t get to walk away.”

He then launched forward—still holding the woman, his flaming leg slicing through the air with brutal precision.

One pirate took a spinning kick to the ribs, flung into a stack of crates with a choking wheeze. Sanji twisted his weight, dipped his shoulder, spun again—his knee smashing into another’s stomach so hard the man coughed bile and collapsed.

“Don’t blink,” Sanji half whispered to Umbra. “I move fast.”

She didn’t. She watched, stunned. The way his eyes lit with determination and ferocity nearly made that mentally set stereotype of hers about Pirates falter. Nearly. 

He danced between the attackers with such grace that shouldn't have been possible while carrying another human. Each movement was devastating—flame trailing behind him like a banner of fury. The Pirates didn’t stand a chance. One after another, they fell, until the last few scrambled away, terrified.

“You alright?” Sanji finally asked her, his voice much softer now.

Umbra could only nod, still pressed against his chest, heart thudding.

And then—

“MARINES!” someone shouted.

The sound sent a cold spear of dread straight through her, and she tensed. “I don’t want to be seen by them,” she whispered quickly, urgently, hands fisting in his neatly pressed black suit. “They scare me..”

Sanji’s jaw clenched. He adjusted his grip around her once more and didn’t hesitate. “Hold on.”

And then they were gone again, the world blurred as the cook darted through the winding streets, with the girl cradled in his arms like she weighed nothing. The scent of burnt air still clung to him, his leg cooling from the blaze. Behind them, the pirates were either unconscious or too afraid to follow now. 

He felt the tension in her grip, the single eye that wasn't obscured by his bangs looked down at her briefly. “You’re safe with me, angel,” he promised. “No one’s laying a hand on you.”

Of course, this was all a ruse on her end. Umbra knew the kind of guy Sanji was the second he adjusted his tone of voice toward her. She’s just using this poor fool to her own benefit and he’s playing the part right into her manipulative hands.

Within moments, they were at the dock—and the sea shimmered in its lazy turquoise haze. There, moored at the farthest edge of the harbor, bobbing gently in the tide, was a ship unlike any other with a lion as the figurehead. 

The Thousand Sunny.

Umbra’s eyes widened. Of course she’d heard of it. Everyone had after their first ship The Going Merry disappeared. She just hadn’t expected to ever see it. Or, somehow worse… be carried aboard it in the arms of one of its infamous crew.

“Yo-hooo! Sanji!” a cheery voice called from the ship’s deck. He was perched on the mast like a crow, legs dangling, wide grin splitting his face. “You bring back any meat? I’m starving!”

“A woman, Captain,” Sanji announced, setting Umbra gently down on the deck. “And the most divine one I’ve ever seen.”

She cringed internally at Sanji’s comment, then realized who was talking to them. It was Monkey D. Luffy, Captain of the Straw Hats. 

Soon more people came out while they spoke, and she instantly recognized them as well. 

Nami raised an eyebrow as she stepped onto the deck. Robin followed, arms crossed. Usopp peered curiously from behind a barrel he was restocking, heard the commotin and hid, and finally Chopper toddled forward with his hooves tapping against the wood.

Luffy practically leapt down beside them, landing with a thud. “WOAH!” he beamed. “She looks cool!”

Umbra stumbled slightly as she steadied herself, standing tall even as dozens of eyes burned into her. The sun hit her face now, illuminating the sharp cut of her jaw, the two feather earring- one black and one white, with a purple bead keeping them fixed in place- dangling from her left ear, the faint shadow of the birthmark beneath her right eye and the way her eyes absolutely shined like gold.

She said nothing, but her fingers twitched at her sides. The tension was immediate—like she was a fox surrounded by too many hounds, unsure if she’d be fed or flayed.

Zoro was the last to step forward after Brook. He stood a bit apart from the others, arms crossed, one hand resting casually near his katanas. But his eyes? They observed.

And Umbra didn’t like that look.

Sanji gestured toward her with pride, like he was unveiling a statue. “She was being chased by low-level thugs. Disgusting behavior. Naturally, I had to intervene—” 

“I-I’m sorry to interrupt..” Umbra stuttered, still playing with that fake tone of voice for Sanji. “But the Marines are coming, remember?” She slowly hooked her arms through one of Sanji’s, who damn near dropped dead from the horrific nosebleed that spewed from his nose. “Don’t leave me here,” she whispered hoarsely. “Your ship is the first one that’s stopped by in days, possibly weeks. Please. I just need to get off this island. You don’t have to keep me. I’ll leave at the next stop—I swear.”

“Hold on,” Usopp waved both hands. “You want us to harbor someone we literally just met? Are you nuts?!”

“I’m not asking to be a Straw Hat or anything,” she snapped, tone completely different. “I’m asking for a temporary ride. One island. That’s it. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Luffy blinked, scratching his cheek as he looked her up and down. “One island, huh?” He stepped forward, getting up close to Umbra as his expression was unreadable for a second, leaning on his tip-toes to match her height and examining her face in scrutiny. “So, what, you just want a ride?” His nose wrinkled upward slightly.

“I’ll get off at the next island. I swear,” she said. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Zoro scoffed. “You’re asking us to smuggle you out of a Marine-controlled territory and just not ask questions?”

“Pretty much,” she said evenly. “I don’t expect you to like it. But I’m out of options.”

“I mean, I don’t see a problem,” Luffy said cheerfully. “She’s not doing anything bad right now, right? And I like her hair.”

“We’ve got company!” Franky interrupted, lifting his sunglasses up by one of the arms, eyes narrowing at the horizon off the port side helm high above the others. "Damn it, they must've caught wind of what happened on Thriller Bark.."

Out on the open sea, in the distance, a Marine warship crested into view—white sails billowing, the justice emblem glaring like a curse. It wasn’t close enough to fire yet—but it was coming fast.

“Aw, man, we just got here!” Luffy groaned. “I didn’t even get to eat anything!”

“Yohohoho! We always leave an impression, don’t we?” Brook laughed as he drew his sword, facing toward the incoming ship. “Ah, but I do hope they won’t shoot at us. That would hurt—not that I have skin!”

Umbra dismissed the fact that an actual skeleton with an afro was speaking, stepping closer to Luffy as her head turned towards the enemy ship. “Please,” she said again, quieter this time. “I wouldn’t be asking if I had any other way off this rock. If you want me off at the next port, I’ll go.”

“Do you have a Log Pose?” Robin asked calmly from where she was leaning on the rail.

"I do, but it got busted on my way here. I'm not able to fix it so my best chance is to buy a new one when I find it again.." 

The pause that followed was painfully heavy—until Luffy grinned, loud and carefree as ever. “Sure.”

The crew turned on him. “WHAT?” came the collective outcry.

“You’re just gonna say yes?!” Nami shouted.

“She’s shady!” Usopp added. “Look at her eyes! No one trustworthy has those eyes!”

“I think her eyes are kinda cool.” Luffy shrugged.

Umbra didn’t react much, but the tiniest breath of relief escaped her chest. “Before we go, I need to grab my things. There’s a storage hut a few docks over—I have a bag stashed there. Won’t take long.”

Luffy tilted his head. “Is it food?”

“No. I mean…I have a little bit left if you really want it..?” This is the first time she’s being sincere, she really did have a tiny bit of food left over. It seemed to be a fair trade between the both of them. She’d get her things, and Luffy would get to eat. Or so it would seem, she'd heard rumors about Luffy's insatiable hunger. Especially while in the Kingdom of Alabasta, where he ate right in front of the Marine Smoker or “White Hunter" without a care in the world.

“Franky!” Luffy called. “Can we easily swing around?”

“Super easily, Captain!” Franky cracked his knuckles. “They won’t even know we were here.” As Franky hurried below deck to prep the engine room, Umbra turned toward the railing, a mixture of disbelief and gratitude twisting on her face.

“Wait,” Zoro growled, eyes still fixed on her. “You’re asking a lot. How do we know this isn’t a setup?”

“You don’t,” she answered honestly. “But if I wanted to trap you, or if I was working with the Marines, don’t you think they'd already be on board?”

That shut him up, even if he didn’t like it.

The Sunny soon pulled away from the dock, slow and smooth as Franky took her out to sea, looping wide around the edge of the island. The scent of salt thickened in the air, as Umbra stood against the rail in silence, eyes never leaving the shoreline.

Finally when the port came back into view–taken far worse care of compared to the other one–from the far side, she nodded. “There.”

Sanji came up from behind and offered his hand to help as they slowly slid next to it, but she completely ignored him and hopped down on her own, causing a comedic-like effect to happen as Sanji’s ‘soul’ left his body. Guess he's not that used to being rejected.

Her legs and body landed hard in the sand, before taking off into the thicket of the sick and dying treeline just ahead.

And, true to her word, she returned roughly 3 minutes later with a bag slung over one shoulder, a light jacket tied around her exposed waist from the crop top, and that old map curled in her grasp. 

No boxes. No weapons. No stacks of treasure. Just a duffel bag, some papers rolled and held tightly in her other hand, and a determined look in her eye.

When she climbed back on board, the crew was waiting—still skeptical, still watching her like a wild card at a high-stakes game. These looks weren't foreign to Umbra. Nearly everyday someone would give her those same eyes, silently judging her before anyone could really understand her. Not that she would easily let anyone in and read her story.

It could be from her staggering height, standing 5’ 11.5” (5ft 11½ inches, 180.34 centimeters) tall, nearly half a foot taller than the majority of the human woman population. 

It could be that slim frame she hid underneath a black long sleeved crop top with a hood, and matching cargo pants. She's dawned this style of clothing as ‘techwear’. 

Or It could be the way the public sees her, as no matter what it almost always seems like Umbra is mad/irritated, until she has to put on a facade. Normally, her brows are turned slightly inward, golden-copper eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Her hair, while partially pulled into a ponytail, curled at the base of her neck. Essentially, what I'm trying to say is, she has a slight ‘resting bitch face’ and 'I dont give a fuck' kind of vibe.

But, with everyone and everything on board, Franky hollered from his post, tossing a thumbs-up down to those below him as the sun hit his blackout glasses right at Umbra. “You’ll love this, sweetheart—time to see the power of Cola propulsion!” He gripped the helm and pulled two metallic levers forward with a dramatic ka-chunk! “Sunny, we’re FLYIN’ OUTTA HERE, BABY!”

And, just like he said, the Sunny’s massive paddle wheels began to spin, steam erupting from its sides as the pressure built. A concealed launcher below deck rumbled to life, and with a blinding burst of compressed air—

FWOOSH!

The Thousand Sunny exploded from the shoreline and into the sky, narrowly evading a warning cannonball that struck where they had just been docked. White waves fanned outward like wings as the ship gained altitude.

The Marines scrambled to adjust, barking orders and rotating their canons, but Franky was already swinging the Sunny into a wild evasive maneuver, soaring ever higher.

“YOOOHOOOOOO! FLYING FISH CANNOT COMPETE!” Brook cheered, his coat flapping in the wind while holding onto his hat.

The Straw Hats easily stood their ground against the forces of physics and velocity that pounded against them. Unlike Umbra, who the minute the ship took to the air unceremoniously somersaulted and rolled all the way to the wall beneath the helm, her back hitting the wood with a hard THUD. It almost knocked the wind out of her lungs till Luffy suddenly appeared by her side, chuckling while his arm wrapped around her as a python does to its prey hollering,

“Hey you can't see from down there!!" 

All the while, that goofy grin cracked his face in half.

✧༺♥༻✧

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AN: ok, y'all wanted the first chapter of my fic posted here, so here you go! Lmk if you want to be on a tag list and I'll edit this to include you all here, and I'm future chapters!