Prisoner
The air around him was blue. The strange aura of his power filled the entire room, encompassing his tools, the operation table, his subordinate who was to assist him during the surgery, and the girl who lay on the table before him, motionless save for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Trafalgar Law studied her, savoring the anticipation he always felt before an operation; he felt like an eager child about to examine a long awaited birthday present—and he hadhad to go through a lot of trouble to get her.
In repose her face was peaceful, leaving no hint of the fierce determination and anger it had worn earlier. He brushed long inquisitive fingers over her skin, noting with interest that her small bones were wrapped in lean, hard muscles. Lazily, he traced the shape of the crisscrossed scars that marred the pale skin of her back. They were burn scars, looking as if whatever has caused them had been applied by human hands, in contrast to the three thin, pale scars on her stomach that seemed to have been made by an animal; judging by the shape of them, he guessed the talons of a large bird. Where ever she had lived before she came to Sabaody, she had lead a hard life. Despite this, she appeared deceptively fragile: barely 5' 3" tall, she was slender; her face was pixie-like with delicate features. Her eyelashes were long and as white as her hair. He had smirked when he noticed that she had a navel piercing; a sharks tooth dangled from the metal stud. It contrasted oddly with the lacy, entirely feminine undergarments she seemed to prefer. The faded marks of old bruises shadowed her skin, most likely attained at the hands of slavers, and she smelled faintly of rose-scented soap and sweat.
When he made the first incision no blood welled around the blade; even if she had not been asleep, she would have felt no pain. The power he has acquired from one of the legendary "devil's fruits" was useful in every operation, but for this one it was absolutely necessary. He had never done what he was attempting to do—not like this—but he was confident that it would go well. She would come to no harm worse than discomfort, and that would go away eventually. She would adjust.
The cage of her ribs offered no protection against him, and he easily reached his target. Kenta, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and apprehension, took a step back from his captain as Law extracted it from her.
"You're sure this wont hurt her, right, captain?" NotthatIreallycare he told himself, butstill…wow…
"Yes." He didn't take his eyes from the object in his grip. A grin stretched the corners of his mouth and he felt a familiar excitement in the pit of his stomach as he literally held her life in his hands. It was hot and wet, and pulsed in a slow steady rhythm. "You have the canister ready?" he asked.
"Yes, right here." Kenta held it open. It was metal, airtight, meant for safely holding such things. Law had modified it to make it even safer, the inside was padded and temperature and humidity could be easily regulated.
He replaced what he had taken with a rubber air-filled pseudo-organ—a lightweight thing merely for taking up the now vacant space. When all was done, he put her back together as methodically as he had taken her apart. The edges of her flesh knit seamlessly, leaving no sign that they had been severed. He wondered, with a small smirk, how long it would take her to realize she was missing something, and what the expression on her face would look like when she did. He stripped the blood-stained latex gloves from his hands, as the blue light flickered and died.
.
.
.
Slowly, her mind pushed away the heavy blanket of unconsciousness that weighed it down, and she experimentally moved her arms and legs. Finding that everything worked relatively painlessly, she sat up, head spinning as the room came into focus, and gradually took in everything around her.
She was sitting on a narrow, table-like bed, in a room with three other beds exactly like it. Steel cupboards with jars and bottles lined the walls, as well as complicated medical machinery that looked more than a little ominous. The air smelled of medicine and antiseptic, the floor was light, polished wood paneling, and the lights overhead were fluorescent.
AmIinahospital?She thought groggily. Then the memory of what had happened struck her like a thunderclap. She suddenly sat up straight, every nerve alert. No,I'monapirateship.Captured.Ohshit… she remembered Arianna saying that Trafalgar Law was a doctor, which explained all the advanced medical equipment. I'vegottogetoutofheresomehow.Pressing her hands to her stomach, which ached dully—getting punched in the solar plexus hurt—she looked down and realized…Where were her clothes? She was wearing only a clean white bathrobe over her underwear. Clutching it closer to her and feeling more vulnerable than ever, she forced herself to remain calmas half formed plans swirled through her head.
Looking closely around the room for anything that might be useful, she cringed inwardly when her eyes caught sight of the restraints attached to the bed on which she was sitting. Luckily they weren't in use, but if Law came back, she was sure he could easily overpower her. What was he going to do to her? What if he'd already donesomething to her? Hastily peering down the front of her bathrobe, she was reassured to find that there were no unfamiliar scars. She felt fine, though her body seemed oddly light, as if she'd inexplicably shed a few pounds since she had lost consciousness. She supposed that it was an aftereffect from the drugs. Her heart wasn't even banging against her ribs the way she expected it to be doing by now…
Wait. Something was…wrong. Very wrong. Starting to feel a sick fear, she held very still. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, could hear it throbbing in her ears—but there was no thumping against her ribs. Pressing her hands to her chest, she broke out in a cold sweat.
Ohgod,ohgod—"SurgeonofDeath…"he had cut out her heart.
A thrill of horror surged through her. She felt the blood drain from her face and she was suddenly so dizzy she could hardly stand upright. Her whole body was shaking.
C'mon,Shinju,getagriponyourself… she tried to force back the blind panic building up inside her, but it was like trying to hold back a train. The hideous emptiness in her chest was very hard to ignore. She couldn't breath, the room was spinning around her, she wanted to run and run until she was far away from here, away from everything…She barely noticed when the door opened. He entered and walked towards her, too quickly; she hadn't had time to prepare herself when he reached her. Showing not a fragment of concern for her feelings or personal space he tilted her face up with one firm hand and critically examined her milk-white complexion and shiny, slightly wild eyes.
"You need to calm down." He ordered, his hand still holding her. "Take deep, slow breaths." His words might have been taken for ones any doctor would use—if it were not for the fact that a smirk hovered on the edge of his lips, or that his tone was lazy to the point of being mocking—as if she were a small child overreacting to a matter that was quite trivial.
"Get away from me!" She wrested herself out of his grip and stumbled back, colliding with one of the metal cabinets that lined the walls. "You sick bastard!" she spat at him. There was hate in her eyes now, as well as fear.
He raised a thin black eyebrow and said "Now now, Miss Shinju, I haven't even hurt you—"
She fumbled open a drawer behind her and pulled out a lethally sharp surgical blade. He watched her, still mildly amused; unexpectedly, however, she turned the blade not towards him, but to her own throat.
"What are you doing?" he asked sharply.
"Do you think I don't know that there are worse things than death?" she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes were too bright. "I'd rather die by my hand than let you torture me and experiment on me, or keep me as your toy!" She pressed the blade harder to her skin, drawing a few drops of blood.
He looked at her for a few moments with no expression whatsoever, then, eyes fixed on her intensely, he placed a hand over his heart and said in a soft, fierce voice, "I swear I have no intention of torturing, raping or killing you." For once there was no trace of mocking smugness in his voice or manner. He was completely serious. Very slowly, she removed the blade from her throat and, glaring warily, lowered the knife back to the cupboard.
"Where is it?" He knew what she was referring to.
"I assure you, it's unharmed and safe."
His calm unconcern was making her furious. She wanted to rage and scream at him, to demand that he give it back, but inside she knew: there was nothing she could do. She was completely at his mercy.
She couldn't control him, she couldn't control her situation, but she could control herself. He watched as she sat cross-legged on her bed, hands on her knees. Very slowly, she breathed in, then out. Her shoulders began to relax. Forcefully, she pushed all her emotions back, and locked them away. She'd have to deal with them later; it was just too much right now. A great coldness filled her, like ice. Finally she managed to look at him, her eyes blank. He leaned against the bed opposite her, arms crossed, regarding her with interest.
"What do you want of me, Trafalgar Law?" She asked coolly.
"I want you to join me." When she only stared at him silently, he elaborated, "on my journey. as a member of my crew."
Finally, she answered "Why me? I'm just an artist, and a girl. Why did you bid on me?"
The smile that met these words indicated that however many times she insisted that she was an ordinary citizen, he wasn't going to believe it. She'd already given too much away.
"I have great interest in you, miss Shinju. You're different. I suppose it's simply you're misfortune that you caught my attention." He paused to watch her, and she felt that he was waiting for her to demand more information so that he could enjoy not giving it to her.
"In any case," he went on when she remained silent, "you've since proven yourself to be clever, brave and determined. You have potential."
"So many compliments." She murmured, eyes veiled by her long lashes. "I might blush." Her voice was cold and her face expressionless.
"They are merely facts, Miss Shinju." He studied her, eyes curious. "I wonder… when you first discovered I was after you, what did you think the reason was?"
She swallowed, and said, "I assumed you saw me as a toy that wouldn't break too easily."
He laughed, his smile widening to a grin and his eyes gleaming from the shadows on his face. "Ah, you think so badly of me. It hurts my feelings."
"Liar. I've heard things about you—"
"—And do you always believe everything you hear, Miss Shinju?" Storm grey clashed against pale blue as his gaze caught and held hers.
She didn't reply, a small frown on her face. What did he mean? Was he implying that he wasn't really a bad guy? If he was, she didn't know who he was kidding.
"So, what of my offer? Will you join me?" He let the question hang, tense and expectant, in the air.
"I'm not interested." She finally replied in a flat voice.
"Oh? And why is that?" He leaned closer; suddenly seeming, if possible, even more dangerous. She licked dry lips, thinking carefully about her answer.
At length she said, "Firstly, it would be…dishonest of me, to swear loyalty to you when I don't mean it. It wouldn't be right. I'd rather be trapped by you than by my own promise; if I did that, it would be wholly my fault. Secondly, I don't believe my path in life is to be a pirate. And lastly,"—a flash of anger showed through the blankness in her eyes—" I just really, reallydon't like you. And there's something you should know: you can't force loyalty from me. Don't mistake me"—she added, realizing that he might take that as a challenge—"I know you can make me say anything you want to hear, I don't even want to imagine the things you could do to me. I know I can't fight you. I've realized and accepted that. But through it all, you can't gain loyalty by force—not trueloyalty. As clever as you seem to be, I hope you know that already. And"—she continued, the fierce anger again blazing briefly, "I assure you that if you do force me to lie and pretend to be loyal to you, I will really only be biding my time for the right moment to bring you down—even if I have to go down with you."
After having said all this, she was silent and waited to see how he would take it.
"I see." His smile reappeared. "In that case, until you are ready to accept me as your captain—"
"Don't hold your breath"
—"You will be my prisoner." He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Which means you will wear this." He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her, watching her expression with a hint of expectation in his face. She turned it over in her hands.
It was a black leather slave collar; two flexible wires ran through the length of it inside. The front clasp was held by a flat metal lock, onto which Laws sinister grinning Jolly Roger had been painted.
She paused for a moment, then briskly said "excellent" and put it around her neck, snapping the lock closed. He raised his eyebrows; clearly he'd been anticipating at least some anger from her. Seeing his look, she hitched a small, impudent smile on her face and said, "I wouldn't want anyone to mistake me for a pirate."
He narrowed his eyes slightly and replied in a slightly menacing voice, "We'll have this little conversation again when you've had time to think." He smiled as he said this, a thin razorblade of a smile, all threat and coldness. She held his gaze and refused to look away, as still as a leaf on a windless night, though she could feel her fear building to press against the barrier with which she held it at bay. When he was satisfied that she had nothing else to say, he straightened and moved towards the door. Reaching it, he turned and said, "Follow me."
She slid stiffly off the bed, not asking where they were going. She held her head high and showed no emotion as he lead her down halls whose floors were also wood-paneled; the lights placed in intervals on the ceiling were softer than the ones in the infirmary. Judging by the few windows she had seen, it was night.
Finally stopping at a door, Law pulled it open and beckoned her inside. The room was small but not unpleasant: there was a bed by one wall and a chair next to it; a divan stood in the middle of the room, a low table in front of it. Like most ships cabins, the cupboards and closet were built into the wall, conserving space. There was one small, round window, set into a wall that slanted slightly. The room had the look of one that had been prepared for her some time ago. Shinju felt a twisting pang of annoyance and helplessness: he'd had everything ready for her; he'd never doubted that he'd catch her…
Noticing a door in the left wall, she put aside her thoughts and glanced at it, then at Law, silently questioning.
"That leads to my room." He smirked as he studied the look on her face. "It's locked, and will most likely remain so." He put a suggestive lilt on the "most likely", observing her out of the corner of his eye, mouth still curved in a smirk.
He's justteasing. She told herself, keeping her face blank. Hepromised…A little voice in the back of her mind spoke up. Whatmakesyouthinkthathe'llkeephispromises?Hecandowhateverhewantswithyou…you'rehelpless… She tried to push away this line of thought.
"I've provided you with a room that has its own bathroom. I figured you'd be…uncomfortable, sharing with the crew."
Well, that was very considerate of him…she wondered if he was tricking or teasing her in some way, but a quick look at his face showed her nothing of his intentions.
"I'll let you get settled" he said, interrupting her reverie. "Rest. We'll see each other again tomorrow." He turned and left, the lock clicking behind him.
She stood unmoving for several long moments, and then took a few small steps forward. There were three large cloth bags piled in the middle of the room…opening one, she gasped in surprise when she saw her own clothes. The pirates had taken them from her house; they really hadbeen prepared. It felt good to know that she would, at least, have somethingfamiliar with her on this strange journey. Peering through a small door in the right wall, she found that it led to the aforementioned bathroom. It was tiny, but she was relieved to see that she had her own bathtub, with running water and everything. Backing away, her eyes fell on the little table next to the divan. There was a plate containing a few bread rolls and some fruit, and a glass of water.
IwonderifIfeelwellenoughtoeatwithoutthrowingup…her stomach twisted with hunger as she looked at the food; it felt like it had been ages since her last meal. She took a step towards the table. A little bit wouldn't hurt…
A scant minute later, the plate was empty. Stomach satisfied, she felt a great weariness settle over her. Stumbling to the bed, she collapsed onto it and felt her body relax. Then the barrier with which she'd been suppressing her emotions while he was with her collapsed.
She had to bury her face in the pillow, biting it hard, to keep from crying. She hated self-pity, but it was all so much to deal with; she would never see her home, her friends. She didn't know what would happen to her tomorrow, Law could kill her, he or his band of criminals could do anything to her; she was completely powerless.
Utterly worn out and filled with despair, her exhaustion finally carried her off to sleep.
.
.
Even in her dream, she was huddled in a miserable ball, surrounded by darkness. Then a light approached her. It was the White Tiger. With a cry of joy, she embraced him, feeling his soft fur. Comfort and courage seemed to flow into her. Drawing back, he looked into her eyes. She saw in them deep meaning. "So that's how it is. That's the answer." She whispered. He nodded. Finally accepting the road before her, she looked at him and said, with a small smile, "Well, you and I have quite a journey ahead of us." She saw approval of her courage in his fathomless eyes, and, reassured, she sank into deep, dreamless sleep.
.
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The first thing she noticed when she began to awaken was Law's presence; he was in the room, and he was close. Raising her head cautiously from her pillow, she saw he was sitting in the chair by her bed. He watched her with a small smile. She glared at him warily.
"How long have you been there?"
His smile widened. "About half an hour."
"Great." She muttered. She glanced longingly at her bathroom door. She was wearing the same clothes she was yesterday, and her mouth tasted disgusting.
"Go ahead" he said, waving a hand. "I can wait."
Needing no more encouragement, she rose from her bed and rummaged through one of the cloth sacks on the floor, retrieving her favorite rose-scented soap, a toothbrush, fresh clothes and a hairbrush. Now that she had accepted her situation, and knew what she wanted from the future, her movements had reassumed the simple, unconscious grace she usually expressed. She was no longer grim and frozen, like a condemned prisoner awaiting execution.
Shinju felt him watching her, wondering.
She washed quickly; pulling the pins from her hair, she brushed it out then pinned it up again in an uncomplicated style. She didn't want to make him wait too long. The clothes she selected were a pair of black pants that hugged her hips with a belt, then flared out to end just past her knees, and a white leather halter top that just barely showed her shark-tooth piercing. She smiled sadly, remembering how Arianna had scolded her, saying "proper" women didn't wear leather. Shinju liked it though. It was practical and long-lasting.
While dressing, she thought of her behavior the night before and felt ashamed. She had threatened to take her own life…the act of a weak fool. She had been panic-stricken, but that was no excuse, she thought she knew better than to let fear control her like that. She'd have to say something to him about it. Gathering herself up calmly, she stepped back into the room.
She turned towards where he was now lounging on one side of the divan, drumming his fingers on the armrest. She wondered what the tattoos on his hands and arms meant. Crossing the room, she sat down smoothly and looked at him.
"Eat" he said, pointing to a new plate of food on the table.
Ignoring this, she said "I want you to know that…what I did yesterday, when I threatened to kill myself—I didn't mean it—" He simply watched her. "It was stupid of me. I'm not normally that melodramatic."
"You were frightened. It's understandable. Now eat." He ordered again.
Not needing to be told twice, she grabbed the plate and dug in.
Whoevertaughtthesepirateshowtocook,she thought as she chewed, missedafewcruciallessons.Likethefactthatfoodissupposedtotastegood. She ate every bite. She knew what it was like to be starving, hungry enough to eat bugs and grass. She would never in her life waste food that was set before her. She pushed her plate back, and then glanced at the pirate captain sitting so close to her. It had been rather uncomfortable eating with him staring at her, but he seemed to be completely at ease.
Atleastoneofusis,she thought wryly. She saw with a start of surprise that he was holding a glass tiger. A smile curled the corners of his mouth when she reached for it, and he handed it to her.
"Does the tiger have some significance to you, Miss Shinju?" he asked.
"It's—"she paused, looking at her hands clenched in her lap, unsure how to explain. "He is something that I've seen in my dreams since I was little. He represents me—well not me exactly—" she looked back at him, eyes defiant. "He's a representation of my Heart. Some spiritualities talk of 'animal spirit guides'. I guess that's what he is." She felt her face grow hot and looked back at her lap, expecting him to laugh or say something sarcastic.
"It suits you" he said softly. She looked up, surprised. He was looking at her very intently. She felt her face grow hot again. Annoyed with herself, she pushed back the emotion, cleared her throat, and placed the fragile figurine on the table.
"So," she said after drawing a breath, "what else do you want to know about me?" He smiled at her change of subject.
"Everything." She looked at him incredulously. His smile widened. "You can start at the beginning."
She sighed. She didn't really want to share the details of her life with this pirate, but she couldn't see any reasonable way out of it. Certainly she wasn't going to tell him everything, just the basics. Turning to face him, she began:
"Miles away from Sabaody, near the edge of the Calm belt, there's a tiny island. It doesn't even have its own magnetic pull, so no-one visits; a shipwreck island. In fact, the people who live there are the descendants of people who were shipwrecked on the island more than a hundred years ago. They knew almost nothing of the outside world; that is, until my father was himself washed up on the shore twenty years ago." She drew a long breath.
"The people from the village were ignorant, greedy and superstitious. My father was nothing like them, he was strong and brave and smart, and kind and compassionate…" Her face changed when she spoke of her father, her eyes grew brighter and softened, and she smiled. "The villagers were extremely distrustful of outsiders, but eventually he gained a wary friendship with them."
"As I was growing up, he taught me everything I know that's worth knowing; how to take care of myself, how to be strong and believe in myself and trust in my dreams. He told me such amazing stories: fairy-tales, and incredible stories of the places he's traveled to. I could never tell the difference between the real and the make-believe. But then"—she looked down at her hands, "—he left. He said there was something in the outside world that he had to do, that it was really important. He told me to wait for him to come back for me. Things changed after he left. The villagers…they never liked me, being the daughter of an outsider. I was different. They thought my pale hair and eyes were a bad omen. Eventually, they drove me away, and I had to survive on the outskirts. I'd had enough after six years. I left by myself, intending to find my father on my own. That is still my goal." She finished.
She'd left out a lot, and she could tell he knew it, but she wasn't giving any more details unless pressed for them.
"What about your mother?" he asked. She looked away, her hands resting calmly in her lap and her head poised serenely, looking every bit as demure and dignified as a princess.
"I didn't have a mother to care for me" was all she said.
He watched her closely as she avoided his eyes. He sensed that deep inside this self-possessed girl was a skittish creature, slow to trust anyone, who might balk with no warning— though, granted, when she did recoil from him, she did it showing almost no outward signs of fear. Only great experience showed him that she was hiding something very important to her. He had plenty of time to question her later; bearing down on her now would only make her more difficult to deal with.
Finally, he said, "We'll continue this discussion later." Rising, he said "follow me. It's time for you to meet some of the guys."
Ohgoody. She sighed to herself.
.
As he led her through the halls, Law thought about the girl walking silently at his side.
He wondered how she had so quickly changed from the way she had been last night; her calm was not the icy, forced emotionlessness she had assumed then. She seemed to study things with a sort of mature innocence, and her eyes were no longer hostile when she looked at him; wary, perhaps, but not hostile. In fact, he thought there was something intriguing and a little unnerving about her gaze, as if she could see into his Heart. He was relieved that she had a healthy appetite, though he hadn't worried that she was so fragile as to suffer from emotional shock. Rather, he had considered that she might have refused to eat as an act of rebellion, as prisoners sometimes did. She was far calmer and more accepting than he had anticipated…but it was just as well. Force-feeding her would have been a chore. He realized that she was subtle and clever: she knew that any confrontation with him would end in her defeat, so she did as she was bid and answered all his questions, evading the details she did not want to give rather than refusing to comply outright. He would find them though. He hadn't got his reputation for being merciless for nothing, even if it wasn't always in the way most people assumed: he would get what he wanted. He had no reason to harm her as long as she cooperated. If she didn't, well—he smiled coldly—that would be her mistake.
.
Shinju pondered the pirate captain who was her captor. She still didn't understand why he had taken such an interest in her. Was it merely a whim or did he have deeper reasons? Was he planning on simply throwing her away when he tired of her? He seemed to like giving vague explanations for his actions. Hecan'tevenbeallthatmucholderthanme.She thought as she walked at his side.Earlytwentiesatmost.Howdosomepeoplegettobesodangerous?With the emotional barrier she had put in place yesterday no longer present, she could now sense his Heart as usual. There was plenty of darkness, to be sure, but there was good as well, and she detected a very strong sense of curiosity. He was a man who had to find things, know things, and he'd go to lengths that others would think were excessive to do so. She'd have to be careful of that, and not let him think she was hiding more than she appeared to be; if he wanted something from her, she felt sure he'd find a way to take it. Icandothis. She told herself confidently, remembering her dream last night. Heisn'tdealingwithanordinarygirl.
They approached a large double door. She could feel that there were people in the room beyond…
Law pushed the doors open. The men gathered inside looked up and turned towards their captain when he entered. They were all wearing the same kind of strange, bulky, single-piece white suit. Shinju privately thought that they looked more like space-travelers from a science-fiction novel than pirates.
The room was large, brightly lit, and empty of furniture. Weights, mats, punching bags and other exercise equipment lined the walls.
Atrainingroom, she thought, a little apprehensively. Whyintroducemetothemhere?
"Everyone," said Law with a little smirk, "This is Shinju." Some regarded her with interest, others looked bored. The ginger-haired man she had seen before whispered something to his penguin-hat companion, who elbowed him. She noticed that ginger-hair was smiling at her, which meant either he had forgiven her for biting him, or he was plotting revenge, she couldn't tell.
"Shinju," Law continued, "I believe you've already met Aaron and Kenta." Ginger-hair grinned while penguin-hat scowled. "And these are Nealan (a black-haired man with a long tassel on his hat) Martino (the tall man was staring down at her, stroking his mustache; his hat had a star on the front) Vash (the blond man had a blue and red headband instead of a hat) and Jean Bart."
She wanted to take a step back from Jean Bart. He was a huge, hulking man, with long muscular arms and a savage looking face. He was the only one not clad in a weird white suit, instead wearing black; they probably didn't have a suit large enough for him.
"Now then." Law jerked his head at Martino, who nodded and walked to the center of the room. Turning to Shinju, Law said "you're going to try to take him down. Use all the force you can, as if you were really trying to kill him, or you'll just be wasting our time. Begin."
She swallowed. "I hope you're not expecting anything great." Suddenly she felt very nervous. "I've…no formal training, none at all."
"I just want to see what you can do. Now, begin."
She nodded. She had expected something like this when she saw the room they were in. Slipping out of her cloth shoes (her bare feet would have better grip on the polished floor) she faced the tall man and bowed politely, then charged.
It was no use. She used every move she knew, every trick, but she couldn't budge him. He blocked every blow and flung her back. Once she almost had him; she launched herself up and hooked a leg around his neck, using the momentum of her body to pull him off balance, but he righted himself and tossed her away easily.
Dashing sweat from her eyes, she wished she had her favorite weapon; a staff with an orb for hitting on one end and an eighteen-inch blade on the other, but she remembered with a pang that it and all the things from her first home were in the secret cupboard in her house on Sabaody.
Getting up again, she noticed that her arms and legs were trembling with exhaustion and every breath burned. MaybeifI'mbadenoughatthishe'llloseinterestinmeandletmego. She thought as she lunged again. Ormaybehe'lldumpmeintheoceanandletthefisheseatme. She was out of practice and she knew it—her life on Sabaody had made her soft.
She was wondering how much longer she could continue when Law raised a hand. Martino immediately relaxed his stance, and Shinju had to keep her knees from giving way. There was a short silence, and then someone said "not bad." Another commented "did you see how she almost got him with that leg hook?" She looked around, confused.
"W-what are you talking about?" She panted. "I didn't take him down once!"
"Of course you didn't." The ginger-haired Aaron grinned. "But he actually had to work to block some of those—and Martino's our best, besides Bepo.
She didn't know who Bepo was and she didn't care; it at least looked like she wasn't going to be fed to the fishes.
"You're going to be training here every day from now on." Law said, watching her closely. "I'll know if you slack off. Aaron, take her to her room." Aaron nodded and beckoned to her; after pausing to put on her shoes she followed him.
"So," he said, glancing at her as they walked, "I guess you're pretty spunky, huh?"
She didn't know what to say to that. She didn't feel spunky—in fact she felt like she wanted to crawl into a dark hole somewhere and pretend to be dead. Seeing her expression, he said, "don't worry. You'll get used to it here."
That'sstrange,she mused,heseemsalmostnice—forapirate.
They had arrived at her door. "Captain will be around to see you this evening."
"I can hardly wait." She muttered as the door closed (and locked) behind her.
She knew what she wanted to do first, even before putting her things away; she needed a bath. It's uncomfortable taking a bath in an unfamiliar place, not least on a ship full of pirates who have abducted you and are holding you captive, but when a girls gotta bathe a girls gotta bathe.
She put her now sweat-soaked clothes in her laundry basket and added three drops of rose oil to the hot water. It felt so heavenly on her sore muscles that she had to resist emptying the tub and filling it again, reminding herself that she had things to do.
She dressed in loose-fitting fawn brown pants and a cream-colored blouse. Putting the rest of her clothes away, she blushed at realizing that the fact that she had a bag full of her own undergarments meant that those strange men had seen them...likely they didn't give a damn but it was still embarrassing. She liked her lingerie to be made of silk and lace; after spending most of her life in poverty, she felt like a real princess when she wore silk.
The last thing that she set up was her easel and paints. Then she decided that a short nap would be lovely…
She awoke hours later to a rap on her door. Aaron poked his head in.
"You're having dinner with us, squirt." She twitched an eyebrow at the nickname but managed a small smile.
The dining room was right next to the kitchen (the galley, she corrected herself) and held one long table. Law sat at the head of the table, reading something and turning a fork over and over absently in one hand, apparently not noticing her. Following Aaron, she walked up to the counter that separated them from the galley. The man behind it, whom she assumed to be the cook, was short and fat, with long curly blond hair, small round glasses, and a bowtie attached to the neck of his suit.
"Hey" he said, smiling at her (kind of creepily, she thought) and pushing a plate of food across the counter to her.
"Ain't she cute, Gale?" Aaron joked. She gave him a look as she grabbed her plate.
She chose an empty seat at the end of the table, as far from Law as possible. Aaron sat next to penguin-hat, not too far away. She looked around at the men as she ate. They were deep in conversation, and paid her no mind.
"I'm tellin ya, Ace doesn't have a chance." One was saying. Of course, they were discussing the upcoming execution. "The marines are too well armed; they've got the admirals, vice admirals, and the seven warlords! It's a death trap, even Whitebeard—" another man slapped his hand on the table.
"—This is Whitebeard we're talking about! I mean, I know he's old, but he's the strongest man on earth and who knows how many allies he's bringing from the New world…"
Shinju finished eating, and rose to put her empty plate on the counter, as she had seen others do. Turning away, she found her path blocked by the large, orange-clad bear she had seen before on Sabaody.
"Excuse me." She said politely, stepping around him. He blocked her again. A few of the men turned to watch. She noticed that Law was no longer in the room. She looked up at the bear, whose beady black eyes blinked at her.
"I outrank you."
"Pardon?"
"I outrank you." He repeated. "You have to do what I say."
"I wouldn't count on that, Mr. Bear." She towed the line at taking orders from talking bears. He uttered a soft growl. "Don't you growl at me!" she said sternly, planting her hands on her hips. He immediately hung his head.
"I'm sorry." He sounded very sincere.
"For heavens' sake, Bepo," penguin-hat snapped, "don't be such a doormat!" Bepo hung his head again.
"Sorry…"
"You ready to go back to your room, squirt?" Aaron had stood up. She nodded.
.
Law was already there when she entered. When her eyes fell on the table in front of him, she gave a cry of delight; on it were all the things she'd thought were left in her house at Sabaody: her staff weapon and hunting knives, her book of paintings that was like a journal to her, the flute her father had made, a clay pot with a wax-sealed cork, and a bundle she knew contained the clothes she had worn when she set out on her little raft.
"Sit" He ordered. She did. He picked up a curved blade, about twelve inches long, and handed it to her. "How were these made? I've never seen knives like this before." The blade was rough-looking, a bright turquoise color, the handle wrapped in gray leather. Its edge was very sharp.
"The blade is made from the spine of a certain kind of shellfish. The spine is pried away from the shell and sharpened. This"—she picked up the clay pot—"contains sap from the Enotia tree. Paint it on the blade, let it harden, sharpen it, then heat it, and it becomes extremely durable and won't lose its edge."
He raised his eyebrows. "Enotia sap is very rare and valuable."
She shrugged. "The trees grew on the island. The villagers used the sap on their pottery so it wouldn't break. My dad taught me how to make these blades."
"Did your father teach you how to fight?"
"No, I taught myself how. I trained hard, every day."
"Why?"
"I wanted to be strong. I believe too many people—women especially—have to rely on others to protect them. I wanted to be different."
"How did you get the scars on your back?"
She looked down. So he had seen those. "Some boys from the village thought it would be very amusing to hold burning pieces of firewood to my skin. I was eleven. They were one of the reasons I wanted to learn how to fight so bad."
He looked at her a long moment, then stood. "I'm taking these with me." He said, gathering up the knives. She nodded. "Oh and Miss Shinju…" He turned back towards her. "Did those boys ever do anything else to you?"
"Oh yeah, I spent a lot a time running away from them. Their leader pushed me into the ocean in winter once."
He tilted an eyebrow at her matter-of-fact tone and said "I see. That isn't the type of harm I was referring to, though."
She blushed hotly. "Oh…no, nothing like that. They had pretty village girls, and I was just a scrawny freak." Whyhadheaskedthat?
"Ah… goodnight then." He left.
She contemplated staying up to paint a bit, but she was too tired. It had been a long, strange day. Curled up in bed a minute later, she sighed. She still didn't know what would happen to her tomorrow, but at least she felt she could handle it.