I was gonna wait a while longer before publishing this, but fuck it, right? We'll be updating Mondays!


Usopp gathered up his easel, double thick sheets, and paints, awkwardly holding everything in his arms. He'd sold two paintings that day, and if the numerous artworks decorating the walls were anything to go by, this was quite a success.

"Want some help?"

"No way!" he declared, glancing to the smiling young woman who leaned against the counter from her side. "I'm the strongest man in the world, Koala! There's no way I couldn't handle this—!"

Something struck his cheek and he shrieked, dropping his burden.

"You sure about that?" muttered the man sitting on the barstool, who had used a straw to shoot a pebble at him. He was tawny and muscled, his short hair an odd spring-green and his clothes never neat.

"Leave me alone," Usopp mumbled, kneeling to gather his things. "That wasn't a fair fight, Zoro . . . I want a rematch . . ."

"If you really want a rematch, you should have more resolve about it," Zoro remarked, standing and heading over to help him out. He did not have far to walk; Koala's tavern was rather small compared to others in town, and though she received few customers throughout the day, business was good enough for her to stay open. Zoro's presence likely helped with this, for he always arrived as soon as the place opened and stayed until it closed.

"Thanks," Usopp said resignedly as he and Zoro got the supplies to the back room and placed them in a corner. Zoro grunted in response and went back to his stool. As Usopp went to the counter, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind it—bronze-skinned, long-nosed, curly-haired, and quite thin compared to Zoro.

"Honestly, are you getting enough to eat at home?" Koala asked, placing a hand on her cheek. With her looks, it was surprising they didn't get more customers: her creamy complexion, pageboy strawberry-blonde hair, frilly clothes, and round eyes fit together to make quite the picture.

"Of course!" Usopp lied with a grin. "And I'll have you know I once went forty days and forty nights without eating a thing!"

"Oh, is that so?" Zoro muttered without looking at him.

"Hey!"

Koala smiled. "Well, if you're sure . . ."

She disappeared into the back room and returned clutching a few bills in one hand and a baguette in the other.

"Weekly payment, and here's some bread for the road," she announced.

"Thanks very much," Usopp said with a grateful grin. He carefully folded up the bills, which went into his pocket, while the bread was held almost reverently in one hand.

"Tell your wife I said hi," Zoro said idly.

"Wife?" Usopp repeated. "Wh—oh. Come on, she's my friend. Just 'cause we live together doesn't mean we're together—"

"Yeah, just teasing." Zoro grinned. "See you tomorrow."

"Have a good night," Koala added, making Zoro lift his mug so she could wipe the counter underneath. Usopp waved farewell with the bread before pushing his way through the door and out to the street.

Usopp eyed the bread hungrily as he walked, but forced himself not to take a bite before he got home. As a horse-drawn carriage passed by, he frantically flung his arm up, holding it out of harm's way as the wheels splashed up some mud. He shook off the dirt with a sigh and continued on his way.

He reached his house at last and pushed open the door, stepping in and shutting it gently behind him as he kicked off his muddy boots. Creeping into the small parlor, he grinned and approached the sleeping figure on the couch.

"Hey, Nami! Wake up!"

Nami's eyes flew open and she sat up, almost knocking into Usopp, her longish orange hair disheveled and her shirt a crinkled mess.

"Usopp," she exclaimed, seeing him and holding a scowl on her pale face among the freckles. "I've told you before, don't surprise me so!"

Usopp grinned and held up the bread and money. "Happy Saturday!"

Nami eyed the money. "I forgive you. Give that to me, I'll put it in the safe. Go on and start dinner."

"Yes, ma'am," Usopp replied with a mock salute. Nami stuck out her tongue at him and headed away while Usopp took the bread to the kitchen.

He sliced it up into even parts and checked the fridge. To his surprise, it hadn't changed from that morning—there was still a lone pickle, three olives floating in a jar, and a bottle of hot sauce.

Usopp sighed and took out the hot sauce and olives. As he did so, he noticed a scrap of paper stuck to the bottle, which held three stanzas of scribbled poetry, reading:

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting sparrow
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

"The time might come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling-hot—
And whether pigs have wings."

We have the blanket, just we three,
The robin, and I, and the sweet cherry-tree;
The bird told the tree, and the tree told me,
And nobody knows it but just us three.

"Nami?" he said, turning around as Nami came back. He held up the bottle. "What's with the poems?"

Nami shrugged. "I found that sticking in the window today; the wind probably blew it there. I like those stanzas, so I kept it."

Usopp turned the paper back around. "Huh. These are all different poems. Anyway, did you eat today?"

"How do you think I can eat when that's all we have?" Nami demanded. "If that thief hadn't come and knocked everything around and taken the food, maybe I would've had time to eat, but I've been busy trying to clean the house without collapsing!"

"You did a good job with that," Usopp remarked. "No one would know someone broke in. At least I chased the guy off."

"By screaming and scaring them away, yes," Nami added. She sighed. "Let's have some food. We have enough saved up so you can visit the store tomorrow."

"You wanna come?" Usopp asked, slicing up the olives and spreading them out on the bread slices.

Nami folded her arms. "No thank you. I will stay right here."

"Come on," Usopp wheedled, squirting hot sauce on his bread. "I'll take you to meet Franky and Chopper! They're really cool!"

"I will not go," Nami insisted, sitting at the table as Usopp handed her a plate with her share. "We have been over this."

"Okay, okay, sorry."

Nami took a bite of her bread. "How did work go today?"

"Pretty good, actually," Usopp said, grinning. "I sold two paintings! And Zoro says hi."

"Two paintings? That is wonderful!" Nami exclaimed. "Keep up the good work, understand?"

"I can't make people buy my paintings," Usopp protested. "I get tipped sometimes just for being nice, and Koala pays me to decorate the walls, but I can't control what someone likes . . ."

"Perhaps you should be pushing more," Nami suggested, finishing one slice and standing to get water from the sink. "Just like your usual stories—'Oh, this is a painting of a castle I visited in a faraway land, and their princess has asked to marry me—'"

"Hey, my stories are better than that," Usopp said as if hurt. "And I don't have to go to a faraway land if I wanna visit a castle; we don't live too far from King Sanji."

Nami folded her arms as she sat at the table again. "You'd have to request an audience with him to do that."

"Well, that's true." Usopp propped his head up on his hands. "It'd be nice to meet him one day, but I guess that's not an appropriate reason to request a . . . royal visit."

He rolled the R as he said this, making Nami laugh.

"He seems easygoing, but you are right," she said, smiling. "Do you want to play cards after supper?"

Usopp frowned. "As long as you don't cheat."

"I do not cheat."

"I caught you taping a mirror to the wall last time!"

"That was for something else!"


Usopp bade Nami farewell, and she promised to dust the house while he was at the supermarket.

"Let's see," he muttered, reading her list as he went down the aisle with the shopping cart. "Dairy stuff, meat, veggies . . ."

He frowned.

"Why does she always put mushrooms on there?" he muttered. "I don't get how anyone could like them . . ."

He sighed and stowed the list in his pocket.


"Well, well, if it isn't our old friend . . . why don't you stop right there, pal?"

Usopp froze at the gravelly, unfamiliar voice. He'd been heading home under the cloudy sky when the voice had stopped him in the middle of the street.

"What do you want?" he whispered, his voice coming out as a squeak, the few bags of food on his arms shaking with his limbs. "I don't have money, please don't take my food, I'm hungry, I need this to live—I'll have you know I have eight thousand subordinates hiding around here, if you so much lift a finger against me they'll jump you in half a second—"

"We took them all out," another voice whispered.

Usopp gulped. "D—Did you?"

"Are you prepared to go the same way as them?" the first voice whispered. "If not . . . you'd better get ready!"

Usopp shrieked as another hand clamped on his other shoulder and spun him around. The bags nearly hit him in the face as his arms flew up protectively.

"Usopp?"

He slowly lowered his arms, eyes wide, and found himself facing two familiar figures. The one on his left was a head shorter than him, with acorn skin, doe eyes, and a pink top hat. The one directly in front of him, huge hands on his shoulders and skin like desert sand, was two feet taller, barrel-chested, and wearing short-shorts and sunglasses on his forehead. His blue hair was styled in a ducktail and his nose and limbs were made of metal to varying lengths nearing the torso.

"Franky?" Usopp exclaimed. "Chopper?"

Franky released his shoulders with a grin. "Did we scare you?" he asked, dropping the gravelly tone.

Chopper covered his mouth, giggling. "Sorry! It was too tempting!"

"Too tempting, my foot, you didn't have to do any of that!" Usopp exclaimed, grinning despite himself. "How've you guys been?"

"Pretty super," Franky declared, raising his arms above his head and bending one knee. Dropping the pose, he continued, "Had to fix a telegram and a carriage wheel today . . . plus a busted-up radio. Looked like someone hit it with a car."

"And Franky's limbs almost rusted up again," Chopper added. "So I had to oil them for him. Again."

"Hey, shut up," Franky said indignantly. "He doesn't need to know that—"

"Come on, I've said it before, you should be more careful!" Usopp exclaimed, looking over Franky's joints. "You need those things!"

"I'm fine," Franky insisted. "I can always count on Chopper to help in an emergency, anyway!"

Chopper grinned and wriggled in place. "Don't you compliment me like that!" he said in delight. "I absolutely hate it!"

"Right, right," Franky said, patting his shoulder. "Usopp, bro, how's life?"

"Well, if you ignore being assaulted by so-called friends . . ."

Franky grinned. "Hey, we said sorry!"

Usopp laughed. "Right. Anyway, a thief broke into our house the other day—everything's fine!" he added hastily at Chopper's expression. "They got away with most of the food, but I bravely chased them away before they could crack the safe!"

"Oh, so they got scared by your screaming and ran," Franky said, nodding in understanding. "Too bad about the food. Need any help?"

"No, we're fine," Usopp said reassuringly. "We just gotta spend a little more this week, that's all."

"How about Nami?" Chopper asked. "D'you think we could meet her soon?"

Usopp grinned apologetically. "No, sorry. Maybe another time."

"What if we just, y'know, casually dropped in for a visit?" Franky suggested.

"Don't," Usopp exclaimed. "She panicked last time I asked her about visitors."

"Maybe one day, then," Chopper said determinedly. "Hey, do you wanna hang out at the workshop for a little bit?"

Usopp shook his head. "Sorry—I gotta put this stuff away, and then it's work time. Maybe tomorrow morning?"

"Hey, yeah," Franky said, holding up a hand. Usopp awkwardly high-fived him, wincing when his hand hit metal. "See you then!"

Usopp waved goodbye and turned to head home.


The rest of the day passed much like the previous one. Monday morning found Usopp helping Franky and Chopper in the workshop, while the afternoon was once again spent in the tavern, painting and occasionally chatting with Koala or a patron. He was lucky once more when Brook, a skeleton-thin, copper-skinned, and afroed man, and a customer nearly as regular as Zoro, decided to purchase one of Usopp's paintings.

"I've had my eye on it for quite some time," he'd admitted with a chuckle, taking down the illustration of a whale pod in the open sea.

But it was Tuesday that a most unusual customer arrived at the tavern.