Using her feet carefully and awkwardly, the girl inserted the keys into the cuffs and turned them, creating a most satisfying clicking sound. The cuffs sprung open, and her arms dropped to the side as her brain was suddenly slammed with an overload of information all at once. She slumped to the ground, her hands reaching up to grasp either side of her head as she made a sound of pain.

"Oi, are you okay there?" the other guy asked, trying to scoot along the ground so that he could reach her. "Hey! Can you hear me?"

She couldn't. Everything was such a mess in her head that nothing made sense for a few moments. There was no sound; no feeling; no up or down; no sense of self. There was only confusion and pain and her brain tried to adjust. Slowly everything slipped back into place, a headache throbbing at the base of her neck. It'd been too long since she was allowed to use her powers. Her brain started to map out the ship, and who and what was on it.

"I'm fine," she panted, pushing herself back up into a sitting position. "Don't be too loud or they'll know something is up." The room swayed for a moment as her newly added sense spread cautiously out, testing and prodding her surroundings. For the first time she also got a good look at her follow captive.

The first thing she noticed was the ridiculous hairdo of the guy in front of her. She was aware that some birds and animals styled their plumage and fur in a display to attract females, but she was sure that trait didn't carry through to humans. His hair came right out in front of his face before folding over on top of itself, creating a pompadour. Underneath the several layers of chains that were wrapped around his middle and legs was a uniform and a bandanna, similar to what chefs wore. A crescent scar ran along one side of his face and a goatee graced his chin.

"Sorry. But are you sure you're okay? What was that?" he asked, frowning.

"…Nothing. There should be a key for your chains on here as well," she said, crawling on her hands and knees over to his back. She paused for a few seconds, analyzing the inside of the shape of the lock, and the keys on the ring before she picked out the one she knew was right, inserting it and unlocking it. The chains slipped off of him and onto the ground as he stood up, arching his back and stretching his arms.

"Ah, that feels so much better. My arms were getting really cramped," he sighed in relief.

"…Really?" she replied dryly, trying to figure out if this was another of his jokes or not.

"Right! Time to kick some ass!" he declared, walking towards the stairs.

"Wait!" she protested, jumping up and stumbling forward, grabbing onto the back of his shirt to stabilize herself and to stop him. "You don't even have your weapons."

"Well, do you know where they are?" he asked as she straightened herself up, carefully stretching her legs. Thanks to the exercises she'd been doing, her condition hadn't wasted away enough to stop her from being able to fight for a short period of time. However, she would tire quickly, and she wouldn't be at full strength.

She paused for a few seconds before replying, "Yes, I do. In the storeroom. They're propped up against a cupboard in the room next to this one."

"I thought not, s– Wait. What? Really?" he spluttered, surprise flashing across his face.

"Yes. I avoid lying wherever possible."

"How'd you know that? You haven't left this room since I arrived have you?" he asked.

She was silent, considering if she should tell him or not. Now that he was free, and she was too, she didn't really need his help to escape. As soon as she was outside, she could ditch the ship. She had told him that she'd help him escape though, and her body was already weak. There was no guarantee that she'd make it back to land before passing out, and she'd drown in the sea. She had more chance of survival with him. "…Devil Fruit powers."

"The longer I know you, the more intriguing you get, you know that?" he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, if you don't want to tell me anything, you don't have to, okay? Let's just help each other get out of here, what do you say?"

"I think that it would be beneficial to both our causes if we assisted each other in our escape," she agreed, nodding her head. "Both our weapons are next door, and there is no one in the hallway outside, nor in the next room. There is, however, several members of the crew in the kitchen which is the last door on the right at the hall."

"How do you… Right, sorry, no questions. I'll just have to trust you on this one," he said, flashing her a bright smile. "You're handy to have around."

She didn't reply and instead walked, barefoot, up the stairs to the door, ignoring the burning in her legs. Gently she opened the door, wondering in the back of her mind why they didn't lock it. Did they really underestimate them that much? She double checked the position of all the crew members, making sure none were heading their way before she walked out and over to the room next door, her new companion following behind her. As soon as they entered what seemed like a storeroom, he made a b-line straight for the swords that she guessed were his. She had only guessed, seeing that she'd never encountered his weapons before. But, seeing as they were in the same room as her weapons, and were leaning against the cupboard that they hers were, it seemed like a pretty good guess.

While he attached the swords back onto his hips, she walked up to the cupboard, opening it and pulling out her pouch of weapons. She didn't have to open it to know that they were all there. She strapped the pouch to her right thigh before pulling out her two small daggers, slipping them up the sleeves of her short kimono. The bottom of the kimono was around the top of her thighs, but the sleeves were still full length and droopy. It was a plain design, black with a slim ring of white around the bottom and the edge of the sleeves. She had no way of knowing what the actual colors were, but the lady she'd purchased it from had described it to her and promised her that it looked like that. Her "vision" enabled her to see great details, down to the tiny hairs that made the thread of her clothing. She could tell that there were two different dyes used on it due to the different width of the threads, but that didn't give her enough information to be able to decipher the colors. It was like that for other outfits that people were wearing too.

"The smartest thing now would be to break out onto the deck and run. Once we're in the open, on the deck, I can get us both away from the ship," she declared, closing the doors to the cupboard.

"How do you plan to get away from the boat?" he asked curiously, moving around the room and rummaging around the other containers in the room.

"I can… I fly," she replied cautiously, waiting for him. "Devil Fruit, remember? I can probably carry you with me. But one is my limit for long distances."

"That's oddly convenient. I'm guessing it also has something to do with the fact that you can see through walls even though your eyes are covered in bandages. But as I said before, you don't have to answer me," he said, still grinning. He was oddly cheerful considering the situation.

For this whole plan to work, he needed to trust her, and the only way to get his full trust was to tell him about her Devil Fruit powers. She didn't like the idea a lot, but it didn't seem like she had much choice.

"I have the powers of a Zoan Devil Fruit. It's a bat fruit, model: vampire bat. Using echolocation I can easily see everything, within a certain radius, that is happening at any one point in time. I can't see the colors, but I can see shapes, density and outlines," she explained. Although she was telling the truth, she was purposely omitting a few details, such as the fact that her actual eyes were blind and useless. Also her Devil Fruit came with a few other bonuses, but none of that was relevant to him right now.

"A bat? That's pretty handy. Seeing as you've got us this far, how do you plan to get us out?" he asked as he continued to move around the room.

"So long as we get onto the deck, I can change form out there. You'll need to jump onto my back–" he tried to keep a straight face, but a snicker slipped out "–and then we can go. On the deck at the moment is only someone steering, and someone in the crow's nest. The majority of the men are in some sort of dining and meeting hall. I'd imagine they're going over plans with their captain right now. Any rebuttals?" she said, walking forward and placing her hand on the door handle.

"I don't exactly want to leave before getting them back for dragging me here," he argued, frowning for once as he walked over towards her.

"Look," she said, keeping her back facing him, "if you want to start a fight with this crew, then you may. But I won't be helping. I want to stay alive. I'm leaving. The captain may not be the most intelligent man, but that does not mean he isn't strong. In my current physical condition, I would probably not win in a fight against the captain. It would be hard enough even if I was at full strength. Not to mention the fact that there are also some powerful men in this crew. And to have drugged you and brought you here, there is obviously someone well versed in medicines or poisons. Sedatives, incorrectly administered, can easily cause death. When I brought here, I was also drugged, and the sedatives were slightly off. They gave me too much, and I spent three days vomiting non-stop. It's not surprising that they miscalculated the dosage considering they knocked me out with a gas rather than something in a drink. There's nothing stopping them from using another gas to knock us out. I would rather avoid that possibility. Would you also risk the lives of your crewmates, because if we're caught again, they will be lured into the trap. Would it not be better for you to make it back to them, so you can inform them?"

"You got knocked out and brought here too?" he asked.

"I did. It was a foolish mistake, and it got me in this position," she replied, wondering if that was really the only thing he picked up on, considering how long her lecture was. "What will you do?"

"It's as you said, I guess," he admitted, laughing and rubbing the back of his neck again. "I'm better off getting out of here and getting back to my crew. I don't like it, but I don't want to be the reason any of my crew mates get hurt."

"Good. Thank you," she said. "Once we leave this room, we will turn to the right, and walk down to the end of the hall. At the end of the hall is another staircase. That will take us up to a door that leads to the deck. Once that door is opened, and we proceed onto the deck, we only have a few seconds to make it to the edge of the ship and jump. To give me enough time to transform, I need to jump at least a second before you. Considering the differences in our sizes, and the knowledge of my own capabilities, it won't be that hard. I will probably reach the railing before you. It will be too hard for me to retrieve you from the water, so make sure you don't jump before me, okay?"

"…I can't figure out if you're purposely being rude, or if that's just the way you are," he said in good humor.

"Am I offending you? That was not my intention… I apologize if I said something offensive to you. I… I'm bad at communicating with people," she mumbled.

"Thatch."

"Pardon?"

"My name. I'm Thatch. Pleasure to meet you."

She didn't need to turn around to see the smile on his face. His heartbeat remained steady as well, meaning that he was completely honest in what he was saying. He was actually happy about being acquainted to her. He must have been truly foolish to feel like that about someone he had just met; especially someone like her. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied.

"Talking about bad communication with people, generally someone would respond by giving their name in reply," Thatch pointed out, although it was a jesting manner.

"If by name you mean the word appointed to someone after birth, resulting in easier communication, and clearer ownership in the possessive term, then I was never given a name. I had no need. I have, however, been labeled, temporarily, by different terms and aliases. Although, once the use of those terms passed, they were no longer beneficial to me and I abandoned them," she replied, releasing the door handle, and turning back around so that she could lean against the door.

"You can't not have a name!" he protested.

"Seeing as I cannot deny the usefulness of aliases, you're a free to give one to me. So long as I know what it is, I will responded to it just like one would their own name," she said, crossing her arms. "Should we really be discussing this now? Shouldn't we be worrying about escaping?"

"No, not an aliases."

"Pardon?"

"You need a name."

"Need?" At what point did a name become something that she needed. She'd managed to live her life without one so far. Was there a stage in life during which names became critical? She'd never been told that before. She'd noticed that she hadn't been told or taught a lot of things so trusting her previous knowledge was not always wise.

"Yes, need. Names aren't always–"

"Is this really a good time?"

"–given to people by parents. Some people pick their own names. They even change them as they please. You can make your own name, and it would still be the same as everyone else."

"How can something governed by such flimsy rules be considered critical?" she protested, getting more and more confused.

"It… just is," he replied, but she wasn't listening. Her attention was drawn by one of the chefs that had exited the kitchen, heading down the hall in their direction. "I–" She jumped forward, slamming her left hand over his mouth, her right making the universal sign for silence. He didn't attempt to talk again so she lowered her hand, and both of them stayed frozen like mice as the sound of footsteps became obvious, stopping just outside of the room they were in.

The door handle slowly turned, and the door swung inwards, the chef taking two steps sluggish steps into the room before freezing when he laid eyes on them. His whole body posture and mannerism showed that he was obviously tired and a little distracted. He was probably sidetracked, thinking about what his captain was currently trying to achieve. Thatch was the first react, asking, "Hey there, how can I help you?"

"I… I was just coming to see if we had any lemons…" the man stuttered, obviously confused. The way his eyes were crinkled, and the dilatation of his pupils led her to believe that he'd been awake for at least 24 hours straight. His heart wasn't beating fast enough for him to be scared or worried. He obviously hadn't registered the fact that the two captives were free.

"Oh, yeah, I think I saw some of them in a crate over in the corner," Thatch said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the right corner.

"T-Thanks," he replied, walking over to the corner that Thatch had directed him to. He sifted through a crate, digging out 4 lemons, cradling them against his chest as he walked lethargically back over to the door. "I'm sorry for interrupting." The door closed behind him as he walked out, leaving both of them in silence.

"…"

"…"

"Wait a minute!" came the cry from the other side of the door before it was thrown open again. "I forgot the onions!"

"Here, I'll grab them for you," Thatch replied, walking over to the same corner, digging through another crate. "How many did you need?"

"Two would be great, thank you," the chef replied, bringing his hand up to his mouth as he yawned.

"…" The girl just stood in the middle of the room in astonished silence.

Thatch pulled out two onions, and walked back over to the chef, handing them over. "You look like you're about to pass out. You should really try and get some sleep soon."

"Everyone's trying their hardest, so I need to do all I can to support them!" he declared, rubbing one of his eyes. "Keep up the good work, and I'll keep making great food!" he said, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him again.

"…"

"Did that really work?" Thatch asked, walking back over to her side.

She carefully followed the chef's movements as he walked down the hallway, freezing halfway down it. His arms dropped to his sides, the lemons and onions clattering to the floor as his heartbeat suddenly spiked. "Prisoners on the loose! The prisoners have escaped!" he yelled, forgetting about the ingredients as he stumbled and ran towards the kitchen.

"No," she replied.

"I figured," Thatch replied. "Let's run for it?"

"Of course."