"Ne... Chaka."
The hook nosed boy reluctantly setted down his carefully whittled piece of wood and turned towards the frail, brown haired boy who was staring at him. He grinned at Pell, whose slender, bird-thin arms were wrapped carefully around a gilded book. From the looks of it, it was really old. Chaka wouldn't know, he was never a really book person. Indeed, he left those to his bird-like friend.
"Yeah? 'S matter?"
Pell's mild, yellow eyes held a slight hint of fear as he pulled apart the book's yellowed pages carefully. "Come over here, Chaka... I want to show you something." The boy leaned over and ran a gentle finger down the yellowed page, finally stopping before a paragraph. The ornate lettering still stood strong and black against the yellowed page, as Pell's pale fingernail rested gently against the first word.
"Read this Chaka..."
Chaka dropped his whittling knife as he shifted over, a frown creasing his forehead as he took the book, eyes tracing over the heavy words. His nut brown eyes darted across the page, the frown deepening when he finally ended. Pell watched him eagerly, nibbling a fingernail as he did so. The jackal boy's broad back for one so young was turned against him, hunched across the pale pages.
"What do you think? I won't end up like that, would I, Chaka?" He bleated plaintatively as he stared at Chaka. "I mean, I don't have wax wings, my wings are flesh and feathers but if I fly too close to the sun, I'd also get burned... And I'll fall into the sea and -"
"Nah, you wouldnt." Chaka's voice cut across firmly Pell's.
"Why would I wouldn't? I can't swim, can't I?" Pell's voice was petulant as he snapped his arms across his chest.
"You wouldn't." Chaka repeated with the intense gravity only six-year olds and old men burdened with a lifetime can manage as he frowned at Pell. "You think I'm lying to you? That's evil!" He snapped as he clapped the book shut. Pell felt his eyebrows shoot up and swiped the book away in disgust. As he stood a few feet away from Chaka, Pell snapped angrily as Chaka, voice rising up to a falcon wail as he stood arms akimbo.
"I can't swim! That's why I'll die, you blockhead!"
Chaka frowned. Then he shook his head.
"No. You wouldn't."
"..." Pell looked at Chaka.
"I'll fish you out. Like a big, soggy wet feathery pillow."
It was announced real calmly. Very nicely for Chaka. Really. Seriously. So nobody, least of all Chaka could understand why Pell lost his head completely and emptied three whole clips of bullets into the wall behind his head.
---
But really. Chaka wished he could go back and do what he promised. He'd fish Pell out of the Grand Line's worst shark-infested areas if he had to. He'll risk his very soul to fish him out of the devil's sea if needed. He'll burn himself to death fishing Pell out of a boiling magma lake. Oh, he'll do all of that and more. He'll enter the wet, slimy waters that cling to his dark furs and drag Pell out by that talon-claws if needed. He would drown. He would not care.
If there is a chance to do that.
Chaka wanted to go back in time and beg for Pell's forgiveness for breaking his promise.
In the end Pell still succumbed to Icarus's curse.
He wished he'd never seen that darned book.
He could not, in the end, he just could not fish Pell out of that burning sea of sand.
Lol... So what do you think? Press the pretty review button... heh.