A series circumstances that test the blood and bonds of each of the Strawhats.
— Will be a multi-chapter fic—
I was interested in playing with the blood types of the Strawhats and how they might play out in certain situations. It's rarely mentioned in the manga or anime, so this is just going to be a few drabble-like chapters focused on the Strawhat's various blood types.
Enjoy!
(Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any related characters)
"To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances;
But not for joy; not joy." ~Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale
Sanji
~In which Sanji's blood is rare, marines don't always want to kill pirates, and the Strawhats aren't afraid of odd, even possibly demented, ideas in their desperation.~
Typically, one would think that a pirate ship would try to avoid marine confrontation when on the Grand Line. They were criminals, after all. Some, if not most, with bounties depending on the crew. The confrontation with marines would no doubt ultimately lead to deaths, injuries, and damages to the pirate crew's ship.
Things all best left to be avoided.
That's why the commander of this particular marine fleet was in awe when he saw the targeted pirate ship in the distance turn and begin making their way directly at them. And was stunned as the attack began, but no one was severely harmed or killed— even by a particularly disgruntled looking swordsman who chose to use his weapon of choice backwards.
They were surrounded by the end, all visible members of the pirate crew on board the marines' vessel. A ginger woman was standing beside a devil-fruit user who held the marines in vice-like grips with dozens of disembodied hands. And about five other visible people armed with their weapons of choice were surrounding them, and yet they somehow looked like they were missing someone.
One of the assailants, a boy that's barely recognizable in the thick fog and yet completely evident to be covered in scars, stepped up onto a crate in order to see their hostages more properly. The commander rolled his eyes, predicting where the situation was going. He had been in multiple instances throughout his many decades where pirates tried things such as this. It was as much a dire situation as usual, but he wasn't surprised.
If marines regularly execute pirates, it would make sense that pirates would want to return the favor.
"Which of you are blood type S?" the scarred boy suddenly yelled out loudly, startling the cowering marines. His question caught them all off guard. They stared; confusion evident.
Typically, pirates did not waste time knowing blood types. They simply spilt blood of various types wherever they went without a single care.
A strange animal-creature hopped alongside the captain, blinking nervously at the crowds of strangers in front of it, "You have to have a negative RH factor!"
There was a long moment of silence where the marines seemed to forget about the dozens of disembodied hands holding them hostage, the woman who had summoned imposing lightning from nowhere, the sniper eyeing them all with sharp focus, the silhouette of a startlingly large, mechanical form in the fog, and the skeleton staring at them with blank eyes.
The commander even seemed to become oblivious to the sharp blade being held to his throat.
"What?" came a breathy question from the kneeling commander.
The small creature was the first to speak up, almost pleadingly, "We have a friend in desperate need of blood type S with a negative RH factor. We have no one on our crew with that blood type. Please, does someone have that same blood type here?"
The commander could almost laugh at the sudden turn of events for multiple reasons: The sudden revelation that they were attacked in order to assist a pirate crew, the prospect that it was to mix blood with one of their crewmates, and the fact that he himself had the exact blood type they needed.
The silence, however, dredged on.
"Luffy," the focused sniper called quietly, "they're not going to help us, y'know."
The continued silence confirmed the sniper's deduction.
"Even without eyes, this was foreseeable, yohohohoho~," the skeleton spoke up, startling the few marines nearest to it.
"It is incredibly rare…" the creature offered to its captain, blinking up at the scarred boy with watery eyes. The captain, though standing with the same intimidating authority as before, seemed to have fearful doubt flicker in his eyes. His crew may have missed it, the marine squadron may have missed it, but the commander didn't. He had had that same flash of doubt many times himself and recognized it immediately.
Something felt wrong to the commander, and the humored feeling began to slowly ebb away. He looked around, noting how all the members of this pirate crew were looking at their captain as though they were lost without his judgement here. As though they would do whatever he proposed without question because they had nothing to lose here.
Typically, this much thought was not put into the lives of a mere marine crew.
"What happens to us if we help you?" the commander asked boldly, looking to the feminine hands wrapped around his own that were protruding from the floorboards in front of him. They were at this crew's mercy and he knew it.
The captain's expression didn't falter, though his attention seemed to focus in on the commander immediately, "Obviously, we'll both leave. No one will be hurt."
It was said in such a simple way— as though a sword wasn't held to his throat as they spoke.
Still, considering both crew's predicament at the moment, the commander felt that it was worth a try. Negotiation was often the easiest course of action when the opportunity presented itself. He slowly stood.
"Then I guess I'll help you," the commander said, "Don't seem to have much of a choice, now do I?"
The swordsman moved in front of the commander before motioning for him to follow after him slowly as the green haired man moved backwards towards the pirates' own ship.
"Chopper," the swordsman addressed in a hushed tone, blade never wavering from the commanders throat even as he backstepped to the small creature in an uncertain guiding way, "what happens if he's given the wrong blood type?"
The small creature seemed hesitant to think of it, let alone tell its fellow crewmate, "An incompatible blood type can attack the donee's immune system."
The commander only faintly hears something about 'fatal', but he becomes so intransed in the way the captain's face darkens at the prospect that he can only slightly understand the meaning behind the words.
The swordsman's face barely twitched, but something in his eye glinted dangerously. The ginger woman from behind the commander gasped subtly, whispering something to herself about 'no one being able to do something so despicable', and the dark haired woman merely admonished the dismissal of such a thing. The robotic silhouette in the fog clinked amongst the banter, reminding everyone of its threatening presence. And the skeleton quickly unsheithed a blade that had previously been hidden, a haunting and ancient aura warning the crowds around it.
Typically, such an idea, to poison an obviously vital member of a high-bounty crew so easily. would be a dreamed of and lucky situation. Almost anyone would take the opportunity to better the world, the commander thinks.
And yet, staring into coal-black eyes that were inflamed in undeniably honest promises of pain in the faces of enemies, the commander found himself thankful that the thought never even crossed his mind.
"That won't happen to Sanji," the captain swore evenly, not even blinking away his gaze at the words, "This guy'll make sure of that."
And that seemed to be all it took. A subdued squadron of marine underlings, a haunting fog, strong and intimidating foes, and a trusting chance from an unlikely source.
The commander went with the small creature and swordsman, constantly reminded of the captain's presence even as he sat in a small infirmary and was subsequently forced to donate his blood to a pale, blonde man in a sterile bed. The covers were folded with a care that only allowed a glimpse of the relationship this man had with the rest of the crew, though, if the commander looked closer, he could also see the way the bandages were wrapped with care, the blonde man's hair was brushed back from his face by nimble fingers that had left imprints in the locks, and the way a straw hat was laying at the man's feet as though it was keeping watch over him.
He pondered his odd situation as he watched red fill up a tube connecting him to this man that would motivate this crew to do such things.
Typically, pirates wouldn't be glancing at a crewmate in ways that the commander was witnessing. The doctor wore a constant face of concern, the captain a hidden sadness deep in his steely gaze, and the swordsman a faithful gleam in his eyes that spoke of no worries for a capable comrade.
Typically, a pirate doctor wouldn't worry about bandaging an enemy, especially not as gently as the creature was for the commander.
Typically, a marine ship would not be free to leave with the crew in tact— the members only having minor bruises and strained arms from being held for so long.
Typically, a pirate and marine confrontation would have ended in bloodshed.
Typically, seeing the crew rush into the infirmary as the marine ship floats away would be seen as an opportunity to engage in an attack. A sort of surprise that might be believed to offer them victory despite the way they were outmatched moments before.
But, this was obviously not a typical situation.
And so the commander simply ordered his crew to leave, a thoughtful finger placed on his bandaged inner elbow.
Next: Nami, Chopper, and Brook