I recently got a review from a 'Jadefuchs' who pointed out a mistake I had made at the end of my fic (believe it or not, I actually tried to look up the facts on the internet, but I suppose the website I found had a mistake on it) . And while I deeply appreciate this, I would also like to say that I'm not trying to copy Fire Tears or anyone at all. I stated in the summary that this was my take on what I think would happen in this particular scenario.
I understand that you may not like my fic, and that's perfectly understandable. But I would ask you not to verbally degrade me, as I tend to take most things a bit too personally and I already deal with that everyday (Ah, Middle School. . . how you've ruined me). A simple "I thought that your story was horrible" with a reason why or two is just fine. I can only hope that any OP fics I happen to write in future do not send you into violent spasms of projectile vomiting.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The blades made a swishing sound as the fell through the air.
Four among hundreds, maybe even thousands, held their breath.
The swords hit the wood of the execution block with a hollow 'thok'.
Tears streaked down the faces of the same four.
An orange head was bowed in grief.
Memories still fresh flashed in front of her eyes.
A man, barely out of boyhood who looked far too small in his oversized red coat, smiled blindingly at the teeming mass before him. He laughed.
"Sorry guys," He said so loudly that everyone in the crowd could hear, yet he seemed to be speaking to a select few who could alone decipher the hidden meaning behind the his words. "It was my fault. . . I guess I shoulda been more careful. Don't worry about it though, I just dont want any of you to do something stupid like trying to help me, OK?"
He laughed again.
And the swords came flying down.
Tears continued to stream down her face. They could have helped him. She could have helped him. Why didn't he let them? Why did he have to be so. . . so. . . so stupid?!
The marines had him faced down on the ground, kneeling on his back and limbs to prevent him from escaping. They really needn't have. He wasn't struggling. Instead, his normally smiling face was unusually grim as he looked over at his helpless comrades.
When one of the marines tightened their grip on the slim man, the four people who had been left out of the scrambling melee moved forward as if to join the pile of people, but a word from their captain halted their footsteps.
"Don't move!" He yelled, voice sharp with command. "I gave up so you guys could go. These guys," He motioned to mass of people still holding him down with his hatted head. "Are gonna take me away on the condition that all of you are left alone." His previously warm eyes hardened. "Don't follow me."
The tears came faster.
She hated him. She hated him so much for all if his stupid bravery. But. . . she loved him all the more for it. Just like they all did. She didn't know why she followed him. Didn't know why she would walk off the ends of the earth if he told her to in that horribly self-assured way, and believe that everything would be alright.
Once, she had thought on one of those warm, muggy nights when everyone drank just because he did and everything was perfect, that if he always smiled like that, the smile that said nothing bad could ever happen, then everything would always be alright.
But it wasn't true.
He couldn't smile anymore.
Somehow, someway, she still expected him to stand up, put his hat back on and laugh at them for falling for his joke. Because Monkey D. Luffy Did Not Die. It was just something that Did Not Happen. It Was Not Heard Of.
Nami was glad that Chopper didn't have to see this. She sent a silent thanks to the old doctor on Drum Island for choosing now to get an incurable disease and call Chopper away to visit one last time. Luffy wouldn't have wanted him to be sad.
Luffy. . . people followed him because they wanted to see what would happen next. That's what they told themsleves. Told themselves that they could stop following him whenever they felt like it. The thing was, no one ever wanted to. No one with that little common sense could possible last long out there, right? Could never make it to Grandline, right? Could never defeat one of the Seven Gods of the Sea, right? Could never, ever, become the King of Pirates, right?
Wrong.
He had started out, Zoro had told them once, with a rowboat he couldn't navigate, and more hope than most people ever possesed within a lifetime. All he had were the clothes on his back and some far-fetched dreams. But he just Would Not Quit. He kept going no matter what. The first crew member he ever had was the famed priate hunter Roranoa Zoro.
He had the navigator who had drawn the first and only world map. He had the chef who got all of his ingredients exclusively from All Blue. He had the best swordsman in the world. He had the doctor who could make sakuras bloom in the snow. He was the Pirate King. He was Monkey D. Luffy.
And Luffy Could Not Die.
Then whose body is that lying on the gound? A cynical voice in the back of her head whispered. Nami shook her head, sending the tears on her face flying in all directions. Vaguely, she noticed that Ussop, Sanji, and Zoro were crying too.
Stupid, selfish bastard! She wailed in the back of her mind. We could have helped you!
There was another thing she hated about him. Always had be the one to sacrifice. Always commanded them to let him be the only one to sacrifice. And the worst part was, she couldn't not listen to him. He was her captain. He always would be. None of them would ever be able to dissassosciate the words "Luffy" and "captain." They were synonymous. There was no difference between the two. Never would be.
But now. . . now she could ignore what he said. He was gone. What he had said before no longer held them like the chains they had been. She looked up and blinked the to clear her vision.
They were free.
Sanji pulled out his lighter, tears still forming miniature rivers down his face, and lit his ever present cigarette. The lighter snapped closed with a desicive "click". That was the signal. Nami reached down for her collapsable staff and began its assembaly. Ussop's ammunition pouch clicked open as well. A few seconds later, Zoro's sword slid between his teeth.
Before charging one last time, they looked around at eachother. They were all crying. Ussop had a look on his face that probably would have looked comic in any other situation. Sanji's face was a blank mask, his tears and puffy red eyes the only sign of his grief. Zoro had put on his bandanna and looked like a this was the last fight he would ever see, and he might as well make it the same for as many people as he could. Nami just cried and cried and cried.
They all cried.
They cried when they charged into the crowd that was now screaming for something other than an execution.
They cried when they saw Shanks the Red-Haired in the crowd, crying just as hard as were.
They cried when Ussop ran out of ammuntion and had to resort to using daggers.
They cried when Zoro killed what had to be the last person on the island aside from them.
They cried days later when they heard about how Ace Fire-Fist had gone insane when he heard the news and destroyed three or four towns before he was stopped.
They cried because He couldn't.
END
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0. . . I kinda liked this. But since it was my fic I'm a bit biased, aren't I? This a slightly over-done scenario, but I felt that I should at least give it a try. First OP fic! Yeah!
REVIEW!!