Author says:
Yeah, yeah, yeah, why am I putting up a new story when I've got at least 4 to finish? Because the plot bunny hit me, I wanted to try out a few new styles, and it is the crushed carcass of my poor attempt at the One Piece Big Bang with Rayleigh as the main subject.
Nothing much to warn about other than piratical vocabulary skills or lack thereof. If you find something, feel free to let me know and I'll update for triggers.
Now, on with the story.
Rayleigh sits on the cliff as he stares out towards Raftel, his long, grey hair streaming with the sea breeze and his calm, blue eyes sparkling from behind his glasses. His liquor is long gone from its ornate bottle, having briefly passed through the cut-crystal shot glass that now laid shattered on the rocks below. He blatantly ignores the marines as they attempt to surround him in a wide, semicircular human corral, the pounding surf of the Grand Line his only escape, should he ever have a mind to clutch to that scant hope. He figures he may shatter into slightly bigger pieces than his glass did, but he's pretty much felt that way for some twenty-two odd years now.
He's not sure he can survive much more breakage - he's been through far too much already and has the stress fractures to prove it, if Shakky wasn't just being mean again.
He can hear the booted footsteps of two fairly young-sounding marines behind his stooped back. The footfalls aren't as heavy and clumsy as he would expect of a normal person - his rock-hard control over his haki slips just a bit in warning. The boots stop abruptly while in the background, hundreds of other leather-shod feet shuffle, trip and in more than a few cases, run for safer cover a few islands away.
Much better. Maybe these fellows would be suitable.
"Rayleigh "Dark Waters" Silvers?" an adolescent voice quavers, but not from fear. No, this voice quavers on the cusp of adulthood, already ripe in wisdom even though the skin is still a bit green.
"By the powers invested in me as Vice-Admiral in the World Government's Naval Forces, I hereby place you under arrest for aiding and abetting the illegal activities of Monkey D. Luffy. I ask that you come with us quietly, however, if you choose to resist arrest, know that I have the authority to determine whether you should be brought in alive and stand trial - or dead after my summary judgment."
The voice stirs a bit of a memory in the old pirate. This, he thinks, is a voice that is very much like-yet-unlike that of his last pupil.
The old pirate flares his haki a bit more blatantly. As he expects, numerous lower-ranking marines drop like flies, frothing at the mouth with their eyes rolled back into their heads. The two sets of World Government-issued boots behind him, however, remain steady. Rayleigh is inordinately pleased. He lets the power subside and turns his self-deprecating mirth back out to the Grand Line.
"That brat is a lot like the sea, you know."
The boots shuffle a bit, then separate. One pair - the lighter step of the two - approaches him from his left side, at an angle. Smoothly, they drop into a crouch, bringing a pink-tinged mop of hair into view, along with a yellow headband and a pair of fiendishly thick glasses. Rayleigh is not so drunk or old as to have forgotten the "Voice of Reason" from Whitebeard's War.
"Getting a beard now, young man? Good, but a might scraggly, don't you think?" Rayleigh chuckles as he rubs his own distinctive goatee. Behind his back he can clearly hear Coby's first mate turning around and pointedly ignoring any and all conversation that might slip out of his commanding officer's mouth. On any other day, Rayleigh may have been at least a bit tempted by the long, free-swinging blonde locks and tall, straight frame of Ensign Helmeppo, but Coby is pulling a flask and two plain shot glasses from his coat pockets so he can't afford the distraction.
"You're a lot like him, but opposite, too," Rayleigh muses aloud as Coby settles the glasses on the ground and uncorks the flask. "Like a young sea fighting a dawning sky."
Coby simply smiles and blushes and hides his face in his unruly mop of strawberry-blonde hair as he pours grog in both glasses. Rayleigh likes that fresh-faced flush, bloodthirsty old seaman that he is, so he slashes again with his words.
"Though I bet you've found your own sun to ride you through the day, yes Ensign Helmeppo? What about an old moon for your night duties?"
Helmeppo's toes are drawing tight in his boots and Coby's face is slanderously red when he drains his shot and refreshes it. Rayleigh roars in delighted laughter at the stubborn streak that keeps both marines silent.
"Very smart! Don't mind the prattle of an old sea hound. You are so unlike-yet-like, you two are," Rayleigh manages to explain as he calms himself and takes up the glass that still sits on the ground. "He would have probably told me all about his day and night duties."
Rayleigh's head is turned upwards as the alcohol burns a road down his throat. He hears the squeak of Coby turning the glass, followed by a sigh as the young man settles himself more comfortably.
"How is he? I mean, after...after..."
Rayleigh smiles and shakes his head in slight amazement. He should have known that the young sea had left its mark on the new dawn already.
"Met him before, Oh Voice of Reason?"
Helmeppo doesn't even bother to stifle his grumble and rattles his knives in their sheaths. Rayleigh finds the non-answer intriguing as he glances at Coby's open face.
"Oh? Him and...hmm, let's see if my brains are still working under all this grey hair. Ah, that's it! Him and his anchor well acquainted with you two?"
Coby is the one to not-answer this time, his mouth screwing down tightly and tears sprouting from his large, weak eyes with alarming alacrity. Rayleigh is somewhat disappointed that this is how the sky and the sea are so similar, but the answer is very clear. The old man takes the flask and refills both shot glasses, then turns back to the ocean vista, his tired eyes locked on the horizon where sky and sea meet, joined by an umbilical cord of land called Raftel.
He and Coby and Helmeppo are silent for a while, as the sun starts to slip below the waves. It takes time for the grog to loosen rusty tongues and pry open long-locked gates, but eventually it works its ancient magic on Rayleigh. It only takes the flask and two more bottles fetched by a weary, muttering, frowning Helmeppo to get all three of them to relax around each other.
It is just as Helmeppo's guard drops enough to lay his head in Coby's lap and curl his lanky body around his captain like a python that Rayleigh begins to speak. The wily old salt waits until the ensign is snoring softly with one had gripping the handle of a blade and the other clutching loosely at Coby's abdomen. It's a jarringly familiar sight, such that Rayleigh doesn't initially realise that he is talking aloud.
"Side-effect of Marineford?" he asks as Coby makes himself as comfortable as possible with Helmeppo acting as his blanket. Rayleigh catches the vice-admiral's slow, sorrowful nod in his peripheral vision.
"I love the sea - young or old. The waters of every single Blue has sung for my blood since I was 9 years-old and I've gone to all of them at some time or the other. But let me tell you - right here, right here at the middle of everything - this's the spot for me. I was happily settling down and waiting for Death to get serious about taking me when that young sea and his salty tears and sweat and blood called to me again, begging me to take one last adventure."
Coby snorts softly, even as he strokes Helmeppo's hair and arranges him so that the ensign doesn't snore as loudly. His voice strives to be bitter, but it's a thin disguise over his admiration, amazement, and adoration.
"He's like that, alright. He's like adventure personified. You can literally smell trouble when he's within 100 yards."
Rayleigh breathes deeply, inhaling the fine salty spray in the air, before nodding and smiling a little.
"Indeed you can, though what you call 'trouble,' I call 'fun.' Anyway, this young sea came and gripped me in such a way that I could only follow his current - when's he's on the move, he's like a riptide. You either go with the flow and wait until he releases you, or you fight it and drown in his wake."
From the corner of his eye, Rayleigh can see Coby nodding again, even while his mind drifts back to the immediate aftermath of Whitebeard's death only a few years ago.
[~~~~~~]
After all these years, I still find it vaguely irritating how well Shakky knows me - I mean truly understands me. Occasionally, I've had reason to believe that she knows me better than I know myself.
It's quite a blow to my pride to think that I am so transparent. I have a facade to maintain as Roger's first mate, you know. If people could figure me out so quickly, why my gambling operations and the careful system of wins and losses that keep money in that woman's hands would be ruined! The consequences would be...well, never mind. You don't need to hear an old man rambling on about his housemate, but suffice it to say that there'd be an isle or two missing if we were to fight.
Anyway, it was Shakky who noticed it first - nothing gets past that woman! She took one look at that boy and she knew she'd be stuck paying the monthlies on the bar while I went out on another "excursion." I figure she had her eyes on Luffy well before he left East Blue - I'm not sure how she picks them, but she's never been wrong when it comes to separating the deadweight rookies from the real contenders. That's how she keeps winning more than I do on a point spread-
Sorry to put you to sleep there. I'm old now, I tend to ramble... Not as bad as Garp? Son, no-one can be as bad as Garp, but I'll thank you for the compliment anyhow. Now, what was I saying? I must be drunker than I thou-
Ah, yes, Shakky. She'd already taken a shine to Luffy and his crew, especially the orange-haired little girlie - Nami, yes, that's her name. She is so much like Shakky that I almost feel sorry for that first-mate...Zoro, is it? I can almost see them living the same way Shakky and I do in the next 60 years...well, provided that they even survive the next few months. Or that Luffy doesn't do something stupid to get them all killed tomorrow. With that crew, I wouldn't put down a wager any which way.
Now, since Shakky is a stickler for staying informed, she'd already given me a run down on all the Strawhats. Of course, I was hooked once she showed me the hat - never thought that ingrate Shanks would know what to do with it, the lazy brat, but I'm more than happy to know that I was wrong. He really was the closest that Roger got to a son, when all's said and done.
Disrespect to Ace? None intended, of course. Of course. Nigh upon the whole world may have hated him because of the crews - marine and pirate alike! - that we destroyed, but in the lifetime of the Blues and the tides, that's neither here nor there. No, I'd never disrespect that young man's memory, but he was Whitebeard's son, really - blood not considered.
You know, when you get to thinking about it... I think it's part of being on the Line - a Line's man or woman, if you will allow my whimsy. You see, a true Line's dweller doesn't get the luxury of riding on parental coattails; we - people like you and I and your mate and Luffy and Ace and Shanks and Whitebeard and Garp and Dragon - we can't rely simply on blood to make a connection. The Grand Line is so vast and cruel and fickle that it takes far more than blood to rear a Line's dweller. Family comes from those who put in sweat and tears and muscle and will along with all that blood connection - no, rather, in spite of all that blood connection. To be a part of this sea, young or old, you have to choose what strengths you want; you must choose your predecessors and successors. You must wring your model existence into being from the clay and seaweed and sand and rock and this Grand Line gives you the freedom to do so, even if it's only so she can dash you to bits with a vengeance.
She's quite like a turtle mother, you know. She will cast her eggs on many shores and nest them well, but to return to her bosom takes each hatchling's personal strength - be they fast or well-armored or sharp of beak or swimming in a group or floating alone.
I see your eyes, young one. You're most certainly one of her hatchling's. Just like him.
Tears? Boy, you may be one of her more successful ones, but you're as blind as a bat. I haven't cried since I watched the tide roll out with a sunny ship on its back some years ago.
[~~~~~~]
Got a light? Thank you, lad.
What? A cigar? Oh no, this light is for my lantern here. Shakky made me promise to take better care of my eyes, so I'm doing just that. She's annoyed that I give myself headaches trying to see in the dark and-
You want to share this cigar with me? I see.
Well, all right. One won't hurt this bag of meat and bones too much I suppose.
Oh my... This is from Garp's personal stock, isn't it? Ahahaha, yes, yes, I do recognize it - Garp won't tell, but occasionally we've had to put aside our moral compasses to fight a common enemy. Usually lasts about as long as we can stay out of each other's cannon range though.
You and your man there - you two probably do more good for the old man's heart and life expectancy than anything else. You're both more than worthy to replace the sky and the sea that slipped through that ham-fisted grasp of his.
I know Garp didn't mean it to be this way, but his son and grandson - one hates everything he stands for and the other feels betrayed by him. People in this world who are burdened with that D. in their name don't often get the luxury of loving their own. Something about their personalities clashes too hard - forces each D. out on his or her own to figure out their chosen goals and bonds and family and fate.
Rogers and Rouge weren't even exceptions to the rule. They loved each other a lot, but both had their determinations set and nothing was going to skew them any which way. Same as Luffy and Ace - even his brother's death won't shake that one off his trail.
I certainly wasn't going to allow it.
Cocking eyebrows at me, eh? Well, don't be too surprised - I was Rogers first mate, after all. Used to be that my ruthlessness was more feared than my captain's own. I'm a right bastard, son, down to the unmarried parents and all. I'll be one to the end of time if that's what it'll take to put another king on the throne. So yes, even if I had to twist, torture, warp, corrupt, or otherwise break and rebuild him from scratch, I was determined to get that young sea strong enough and wild enough to pound his way to Raftel.
In the end, it was surprisingly easy. I have to thank Jimbei for dealing with the hardest part; my patience has grown since Shanks and Buggy left us, but young men still make me grind my teeth too hard.
The thing is, Luffy's story isn't much different from a number of 'D.' tales. Early tragedy tends to be the basis of their lives; be it loss of parents, siblings, friends, towns. Usually it's a combination of all of the above and Luffy's just no different.
Nothing spectacular in and of itself. Many of us Line's dwellers have equally sad tales. I don't know if a single member of Luffy's crew has every known their true parents other than that sniper, but he's the most normal of them all. If he went off the deep end again, the sea would be without any sort of moral compass, I tell you.
Ha~! This is a pure work of tobacco art, my friend. Tell Garp I said, "Thanks." Now, let me see...
This? Oh, this is a journal I kept while I was training Luffy. My memory is hardly as capable as it used to be, so I tend to write things down nowadays. I know, not very criminal of me at all, but I'm aging; not much I can do against that.
Let's start at the beginning, shall we? "Day 1: New Eden."
That day was pretty bland really. After Jimbei got him to shape up, Boa Hancock and her crew shipped him out to the coordinates I left them. I'm a bit miffed that I had to swim out there - bloody waste of a decent vessel always annoys me - but then I got there in reasonable time.
Yes, yes I did swim through the Calm Belt. Seakings? Really, they ignore someone as harmless as I am. I was never in any danger from them and I would hurt them too much, of course-
I'm trying not to laugh, stripling, but your eyes look like bow lanterns right now. Need a minute to pull yourself together? All right, just don't go choking on me, now.
Anyway, after I was able to chase those damnable women away - now don't let Shakky know that I said this, but most of the gender specialize in babying men and wasting valuable time. Right, after I got Boa and her crew to leave, taking Jimbei with them, I impressed the power of haki onto Luffy's thick skull with a moderate demonstration of my capabilities. He was duly enraptured without me having to lay my hands on his head too many times and we had a quiet evening dining on roasted elephant.
He was pretty animated that night. Wanted me to show him haki over and over again, which wasn't really a problem given the irascibility of the animals on that island. We bedded down around the fire pretty quickly and he told me some of the stuff he went through after Kuma sent him flying. On the surface, he seemed...fine, really. He didn't talk about Ace at all and I didn't bring it up - the last thing I needed was for him to lose his fool head and go careening off on a suicidal warpath. Indeed, the only odd thing he did was keep patting his hair, as if he wasn't used to air flowing around it constantly.
His hat? Well, he declared himself 'on vacation' from piracy once he hit the shore and saw haki in action. Now that you mention it, though, that probably was a sign too. Let me see in the journal here...
Ah yes, "Day 23: Is he really this stupid?"
Now, one thing Garp and I agree on is the best way to train a youngster. Just throw the brat in there and see how long it survives. That sort of thing teaches discipline, teamwork, basic survival skills, adrenaline-based flight-fight-or-freeze negotiations -
You okay there, new dawn? You look a bit sickly - oh, yes, pardon me. I forgot that you have intimate knowledge of Garp's idea of training. You might want to daub off that young man's forehead as well - he's sweating like a piglet and whimpering like a whipped mongrel.
Anyway, I was very good the first two weeks. I was patient and explained what haki was, the various colours, the applications, how he differed from most other people - I honestly tried not to go the Garp or Rogers route. I hadn't taken into account that this is how Luffy learned best - just throw him in the pit and let him crawl out on his own. I truly believe Garp beat all the smarts out that boy with that Fist of Love of his - even Shanks and Buggy could listen and learn sometimes.
Not Luffy. Oh no. Words roll off the boy's head like water off a duck's back, sometimes. I had to throw him in the deep end and pray that he could wade out. So sometime in the early morning of day 23, I dragged him, still sleeping, into the heart of the island's craziest menagerie and tossed him into a lion's mouth.
It took till day 31 for those animals to wear him out enough to use his King's haki and when he did... I don't particularly feel like letting this one slip by, so I'll just tell you that he almost knocked me out. I'm fairly certain he got 30 seconds off my life with his outburst. The fact that you and your man-at-arms there got past it during the battle is downright amazing. I know I've been losing my grip, but still...the raw power of his will slamming into me was like that one time...
Here, I think I wrote it down in day 35, after I dragged him from that battle. Ah yes, in y own words even.
"His will is the single most astonishing thing I have felt since the first day I entered the Line. He is relentless beyond all mortal comprehension - tempered beyond all form of matter capable by metallurgy, carpentry or witchcraft. It defies the relatively frail form that encompasses his existence, such that I am gripped by the cold, certain knowledge that it will burn out even his personal will to live in order to attain his unstated goals."
Unstated goals? What, do you honestly believe that he's just as simple as 'I want to be the Pirate King?" No lad, he's got convictions behind that goal that are deeper than most of the Line and just as strong. That young sea's full of currents and volcanoes far under that fun-seeking surface. Just ask his crew - they pretty much leaned on his volcanoes and watched the explosion take out everything that ever stood in-between them and their dreams.
Glory above, that boy hates obstacles - hey now, are you laughing or crying? Look, you've gotten that young sun all upset and hooking knives around my throat. Easy, handsome, I'm not above a spot of molestation in order to get my own way, you know. Most of my scruples have been dead far longer than Rogers.
No wonder you keep him on your leash - he's as bad as that Roronoa fellow. Now there was something I'd have paid to see! When Mihawk sent me that letter...Ah well, you were here for Luffy, weren't you? I suppose I will have to tell you that tale some other time.
Now, now, don't look so disappointed, young sun - did you really expect that I'd sell out the whole crew so cheaply? I only said most of my scruples are dead, not all.
Anyhow, Luffy was unconscious for a while after that battle - I can't tell you how I depopulated and deforested that island to feed that boy's metabolism as he was healing. Let's not begin on how his muscles became that much more developed and all-around denser - yes, he's a rubber man, but that rubber band is packing some ridiculously improbable elasticity in each muscle fiber.
In short, when he woke up, he had the physical potential to hit harder than the Buster Call that took out Ohara. Yet the boy still had no clue how he unleashed the haki.
Ahaha! You're laughing like you know it's true! Yes, sadly, it was. But that young sea has fathomless depths of determination when he settles on a goal, so he got it right eventually - pretty quickly actually. I even managed to sneak in a few good habits...
[~~~~~~]
Many, many miles away and days after a seagull came bearing news, Luffy hovers dangerously over the side of the Thousand Sunny, his eyes unfocused as he unconsciously maintains his stance using his abdomen as a pivot on the ship's railing. He feels content as he engages in a new, ship-wide routine - early morning tea-time with the entire crew. Sipping the Orange Pekoe that he's grown fond of after the turmoil on Fishman Island, he absentmindedly basks in the light of the rising sun, his eyes and the brim of the Hat quickly compensating for the new dawn's glow.
"Um. Good tea," Usopp sighs softly as he slowly swirls the contents of his cup. The sniper is on one side of his captain, his dark, raw silk-textured curls resting on one rubbery shoulder as they stream from under his white head wear. On his back, Chopper grunts his agreement, still sleepy but warm in the nest of thick hair. The doctor is trying to nuzzle his captain as surreptitiously as possible from his perch, but everyone understands that it's his unique form of communication with Luffy when the young captain's mood is deeper than his elastic face shows.
"Hn," Zoro agrees, squinting deeply with his lone eye as a sunbeam strikes his face at a particularly harsh angle. The dark tea in his small, wooden cup steams gently over his chin, softening the faint, craggy lines of worry that have developed in his jaw and his forehead. His elbows, as sharp and large as his own swords, only lightly nudge Luffy's dangling arm as he leans on the other side of the pirate captain - a silent wall of strength draped in an open green robe.
"It's the leaves you brought back - they're well-blended," Sanji concurs in a smoke and sleep-roughened voice, his pale, barely silk-covered ribcage bumping the nut-brown, lithely muscular arm on Usopp's other side. The crew's cook is half-dressed, his pants barely done up and his shirt unbuttoned as he stretches out his back over the railing while balancing his cup on his chest. His hair has fallen out of his eyes, fully revealing his styled eyebrows and thoughtful demeanour as the gears in his sly mind work.
Luffy hums in agreement as he looks up in the sky, comparing the faintly visible stars to the encroaching daylight. At this time of day, neither appears to be warring for dominance, merely complementing each other. Smoky grey clouds promise an early morning shower. Really, it is one of the more atypical mornings in the New World - many more days have been spent hauling in lines and securing freight as a monstrous hurricane sprung up out of nowhere, or backs broken under paddles as the sea remained woefully becalmed. It is both a welcoming and ominous sign of their proximity to their goal.
Briefly turning himself upside, Luffy regards his shipwright and musician as they indulge in a game of chess while enjoying their warm beverages. The oldest of the crew, both of these men have found a strange solace in each other's company since the crew's reunion - Franky is still amazed that Brook was willing to throw away his life of stardom for the dreams of the Thousand Sunny's crew, while Brook is even more amazed that Franky is willing to dispose of his humanity in equal measures so as to be a more useful tool to everyone.
"Ohoho, this has been a nice change of pace, hasn't it?" Brook chortles as he moves his bishop with one bony fingertip, the others idly strumming on hi guitar. "I think this is something we should not take for granted and enjoy to the fullest!"
"Soul King's right," Franky adds in his mechanized voice, his hands - both robotic and the more natural-looking pair - occupied with holding his tiny mug of tea and scratching his head as he puzzles out his next move.
Luffy rights himself without going overboard, only vaguely aware of the way his chosen mates tense their muscles as he completes the revolution over the railing. He has long gotten used to their edginess where he and saltwater are concerned. Besides, the Grand Line does not feel particularly murderous today, so he should be able to stay dry for a while.
"Na, I guess I'm pretty stupid, huh?" he blurted out, his eyes still on the sky and his mind far, far away. The men around him do not so much as shift, but a bewildering silence does fall over them. The silence washes over Nami and Robin as they wander out from the kitchen, their own cups of tea still piping hot.
Nami's gingery hair flows over her lightly freckled back and shoulder as she stops, cocks her head to a side and raises one clever eyebrow speculatively. Her casually sarcastic facade cleverly masks her deep, analytical examination of her captain. Robin coolly ignores the statement and goes to settle in her preferred deck chair. Feigned ignorance and close observation has always garnered more information than any of her drilling, icy stares. They would not work on her captain anyway.
"I mean," Luffy continues after a cleansing sip of tea from the mug which he miraculously managed not to overturn during his slow flip, "There's a whole bunch of stuff I don't know about and I don't try to learn about it. I just use you guys to keep me going in the right direction without killing myself."
There is no human sound to be heard other than the faint, erratic pulsing of multiple heart beats and puffing lungs and quiet tea slurping. Luffy doesn't really hear anything but the rolling groan of the turbulent Line as it chafes under the restraint of pleasant weather.
"Shishishi," he lets fly, his infectious, distinctive laugh bouncing over clouds and across the deck. His hat has slipped off of his head but still hangs securely around his neck, only slightly buffeted by the constant sea breeze. He turns upside down again, this time losing his tea in the process as his eyes crinkle under the weight of his enormous grin.
"Thanks a lot! You guys are the best crew ever- oh shit!"
The silence is broken by a chorus of snorts and chortles and giggles and sighs before Zoro and Usopp drag their captain from the ocean. Sanji ruffles the wet mop of black hair before moving off to start on a hot, nourishing breakfast, while Chopper dashes to his infirmary only to return and drop a pile of towels on top of their illustrious leader. Brook loudly belches a song, much to Nami and Franky's verbal disgust, while Robin quietly snickers behind her hand and opens a new book on her lap.
Underneath all the towels, like an injured rubber tree, thick, healing, sappy love coats and binds the many wounds closeted in Luffy's heart. Through all he has lost - family, homes, friends - he has come upon his greatest treasure. His smile hides the depths he will sink to in order to keep his treasure intact.
He is, after all, a pirate of the worst sort - one with a covetous heart of gold and self-serving scruples of basest lead.
[~~~~~~]
Coby is comfortable with Helmeppo's warmth wrapped around him. Rayleigh's voice is still melodious, deep with mystery and meaning like trenches hidden below the waves of the Calm Belt. The old rogue is far more lecherous and sly and knowing than he had suspected, but he supposes that that was why Garp and Sengoku gave him such dire warnings when he last visited them at the teaching facility.
Garp, underneath all of that bluster and roughness, had asked his protege to reconsider. Not the young man's dreams to capture Luffy and restore order to the seas - old Garp was more than ready to see his grandson behind bars on Level 6 of Impel Down - but the burning desire to talk to the youngest supernova's latest mentor. Garp had boiled descriptions of dealing with Rayleigh to a rather picturesque "wallowing in swamp water while trying to catch a 30-foot anaconda with a blade of grass and your shrivelled dick." Coby wishes that he had taken that statement more to heart as Garp dissolved under his trademark guffaws of mirth.
Of course, Helmeppo had been against it from the start. While the ensign managed to keep his temper under control, the swathe of knife-scarred training dummies at Mariejois would suggest that the struggle to maintain that clarity had been intense and perhaps not altogether successful. Though he disapproved vehemently, the blond was the first at the dock when Coby readied his new warship to set sail - indeed, Helmeppo was right by his side to terrorize the new sailors and hardened servicemen on the vessel.
Helmeppo whimpers, growls, and draws closer. Coby feels the swelling in his heart that he has always had for his loyal friend; his first comrade and his first mate.
Many people in Mariejois - twisted by their exposure to the Tenryuubito and other nobles - assume that Coby is sickeningly aggressive and domineering under his facade of eager youth. They think of him much like a young Kizaru or Akainu in training. They do not understand that he does not use fear on his men - although they do fear him and his first mate irrationally, based mainly on asinine rumours of his courage being a play for power. Nonsense born of the Marineford War.
No, fear is not his bond - respect is the tie he choses. He respects each and every one of them and would do his utmost to keep them safe while they help him achieve his goal.
The relationship between himself and his first mate is born of such respect. He respected the young Helmeppo's slow-burning desire to not be his father. He respected the way he was willing to work and improve himself, even if it was just because the blond followed the first person to ever call him a friend. It was as if an ignored, spoiled, badly beaten cur had, upon adoption into a lovingly stern and well-grounded home, blossomed into the worthwhile, strong, smart dog it always had the potential to become.
The stability of that foundation had been built on the work of another man he respected greatly - Monkey D. Luffy. A man who had quite frankly declared that he hated people like Coby.
Oh, it's true that he and Luffy are much more friendly rivals at the moment, driven by their goals, but that first meeting had stuck in Coby's head for all the time he had spent training. Why was Luffy so driven? Why did he hate those who gave up? Why did he help even when his own selfish desires would suggest he shouldn't? Or wouldn't?
Coby did not just want to beat Luffy. He wanted to understand Luffy and he has a corresponding desire to make Luffy understand him.
So here he is, on a cool night in Shabondy, sitting next to one of the most wanted pirates on the planet and obligingly listening to the garrulous old man as he regales him with tales of his rival. His loyal mate and lover - well, Rayleigh was correct, after all - is wrapped around him as a security blanket and shield against both the cold and a possible surprise attack. The deep sea is booming at the foot of the cliffs and the sky has faded to an endless blue-black. If not for the clouds and the foam, sea and sky would be indistinguishable.
It is one of the best nights he's ever seen.
"Ready to hear more, youngster?" Rayleigh croons in his ear, his breath warm and savory as he manages to sneak his lips around Helmeppo's suddenly alert knife and glare. Coby shivers and nods as his first mate's hand sneaks up to rub away the goosebumps at the back of his neck.
Rayleigh leans back swiftly as Helmeppo hops up to confront him, laughing all the while. Coby smiles but it is sad - he knows he's only delaying the inevitable. The admirals have already left Marineford to capture - no, who is he lying to? - to kill this old rogue. The mere fact that the indomitable Shakky left the archipelago more than three months ago is even more proof that this grey-haired sea dog is sitting on this cliff, this very night, waiting for his death.
The sea and the sky had combined their beauty not to please Coby, but as the Line's way of saying goodbye to one of its few conquerors.
Coby silently vows to listen this man's tales, no matter how winding. He respects him as the man who made his rival nigh-invincible - his honor demands that he follow through.
