Chapter 7 – The Magic Hat

Bad weather plagued the trip back to Retasu Island, but eventually, its rolling green hills appeared over the horizon. Zoro breathed a sigh of relief, but Volta refused. Not until the plant was in Dr. Huno's hands.

"You know, maybe we should avoid talking to him," Zoro said. "You stole a bunch of stuff from him, including a scalpel. Let's just leave it at the front steps and walk away."

Volta nodded. "Agreed."

They disembarked and walked through Lettuce Town, Zoro carrying the suitcases and Volta holding the plant. He found himself falling in love with the city all over again, the perfect blend of construction and vegetation a treat for the eye. All too soon they found themselves walking up the hill, toward St. Carick's Hospital.

Volta looked down at the pot in his arms, a small golden plant growing out of it. "You know, as annoying as this fetch quest was, it ended up doing a lot of good. We took out a crime family, helped a couple of assassins get back on the right track, and gained valuable intel on a much bigger threat to the public."

Zoro scratched his head. "What it did was cause us a lot of trouble. But you're not wrong either. I'm just glad to be finished."

The front yard had changed. The wreckage of the last Tamago Tree had been removed, stump and all, leaving a deep hole in the ground. A pile of dirt sat beside it, two shovels sticking out. All the dried blood had been cleared from the path.

"I think I know what to do." Volta set the pot down, grabbed the shovel, and began filling in the hole. Zoro took up the other, and together the new soil was laid in only a few minutes.

With expert care, Volta tipped the pot over, sliding the sapling and its soil out without damaging the stem. He dug a small opening in the ground and planted the tree. He patted the soil, wiped his hands on his pants, and admired his handywork.

Suddenly, the sapling shook, wiggling erratically. The shocked hunters jumped back. "What the hell did you do!?" Zoro gasped.

"Not sure," Volta responded. Before he could say more, the sapling shot up, doubling in size. The leaves became brighter for a second, then dimmed to their usual golden shine.

"Damn, Huno wasn't kidding," Zoro remarked. "These things grow fast."

Volta smiled. "Mission complete. Debt repaid."

The two walked away, leaving the plant to grow. A gentle wind stirred the young leaves, but it did not break them. Neither would the storms, the snows, the hail or the lightning. Over the years, this plant, from a species infamous for fragility, would become known as the Miracle Tree, for nothing in nature seemed capable of felling it.

And unbeknownst to the two young bounty hunters, this tree would last a thousand years, providing enough medicine to save the lives of a million humans and half as many pets. It would grow taller than any hill, rising higher and higher, as if trying to reach the sun.

.~===)==============={%}

"Yahyahyah, welcome back Roronoa!" Rokka hadn't changed at all, still as cheerful and smelly as ever.

"Glad to be back," Zoro grinned. "I'm here to collect my stuff."

"Yer just in time, almost had ta throw it all out! Not that's I'd ever do that ta you, Mister Roronoa!"

"You can just call me Zoro."

Rokka waved his hand. "Nah, gotta be professional!"

"Despite just claiming you'd do something unprofessional for a friend," Volta smirked.

"YAHYAHYAH, I like this one!" Rokka guffawed. "Ya keeping him around?!"

"More or less," Zoro chuckled. "He's my apprentice in the sword."

"Well, here's yer key!" He tossed it over the counter, Zoro catching it between his fingers. He entered the locker room, but Volta didn't follow him. Instead, he examined the big painting on the wall.

Upon closer inspection, the five men weren't just old. Some of them looked ancient, especially the beardless one, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Gandhi. He sat in-between what could have been a Jewish rabbi, hands clutched around a gnarled cane, and a parody of the Monopoly man, hatless and scowling. Two more hovered behind the couch, one thin and sporting a long-pointed beard, while the other had only a short blonde one and looked rather young in comparison to the others.

Some bore scars, and the oldest held a katana, which rested on his shoulder. Volta had no doubt it was a Meito blade, perhaps of Supreme Grade. Only the best for the rulers of the world, for that is what they certainly were, either in the past or the present.

"The Five Elder Stars," Rokka breathed. "I see yer a fan of them."

"Just admiring the painting," Volta responded. "It's beautiful."

"Indeed. You'll find one like it in every outpost from here to Mariejois. Some Marine bases too."

Volta furrowed his brow. "Mariejois? Is that the capital?"

Rokka gave him a fish-eyed stare. "Ya pulling me leg?! Course it's the capital! Everyone knows that!"

"I'm not everyone," Volta snarked. "And I've come from a place a hell of a lot further then here."

The keykeeper shrugged. "I won't get my shorts bunched or nothing, but ya best be careful not ta share yer ignorance too much. Ignorance, looks, hygiene, speech; all that stuff can make people think yer an idiot, even if ya ain't one. So best be careful now."

"I'll keep that in mind. By the way, I noticed you have a chessboard in the corner. Do you play?"

"Yahyahyah, sure do! Woulda like a game?"

As it turned out, Rokka's words applied to himself; what followed next wasn't so much a game as it was a massacre. As Volta watched his last pawn get snatched off the table, he promised himself to never again judge on appearances.

"Aaaand, checkmate! Better luck next time Volta! Yahyahyahyahyah!"

.~===)==============={%}

The Root was a modest pub with a terrifying history, one so steeped in drunken depravity I won't recount it here. All I'll say is that the previous four owners got a one-way ticket straight to Impel Down, the fifth hoping to break the trend by refusing to sell any more vodka. He caved when held at swordpoint by an irate green-haired teenager, who proceeded to guzzle it down, go batshit crazy, and stumble upon a tattooed vampire on the beach.

"Wow," Volta breathed, as Zoro recounted him the whole story. "You have fewer scruples then I thought."

"The past is in the past," the swordsman hissed. "Let us never speak of this again."

"That may be difficult," Volta responded, "since we're going to that pub right now."

The squat, cabbage-like building had a distantly sallow look to it, like a vegetable on the edge of edibility. The interior looked marginally better, but its customers did not. Volta noted two faces he had seen among Zoro's bounties, one bald and smiling, the other hidden behind a weird mask, part dog and part ram.

"Well, what do you know," Zoro whispered. "Tacobo and Sard, worth a million and forty grand respectably."

The two hunters glided over, the criminals too preoccupied with their drinks to notice the newcomers. With a chop to the neck, Sard went down hard, and Tacobo found himself in the crook of an elbow.

"Ack, let go of me ya punk!" He struggled against Zoro's chokehold to no avail, legs kicking erratically. The table got knocked over, but the swordsman didn't budge. With a final squeeze, the man slackened and slipped into unconsciousness.

"Well, that's one way to replace the money we spent getting here," Volta quipped.

"Tell me about it," Zoro chuckled. "Oi, Uokka, can ya get us a cold one and a glass of water?"

"Damn you Zoro!" the thin bartender screeched. "Ya think I'd serve you after causing another incident in my bar?!"

"These guys burn bars!" Zoro shouted back. "That's why they got bounties in the first place! Consider this an apology for last time. Make that cold one low-alcohol!"

Uokka narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Thanks, I guess…"

After shredding the criminals' clothes and using them to tie up the pair, Zoro and Volta found themselves enjoying a relative moment of peace. They finished their drinks, and remarkably Zoro didn't ask for another.

"Were you lying about the bar burning?" Volta asked. "The posters don't specify crimes."

"That's the newspaper's job," Zoro explained. "And no, I wasn't. Guess fate's smiling on me to put them in my path." He set his stuff on the table, and Volta did the same with the suitcases. He opened them cautiously, eyeing the other seedy customers. With a nod from Zoro, he opened up his pouch of emergency money and dumped it in, then carefully sorted it.

"We have, between the two of us…twenty-four million and fifty-eight thousand berries," Volta counted. "I'm a little miffed we burned through all our Albedya money on ever-lasting torches, but this makes up for it, all things considered."

"We didn't even keep those torches," Zoro huffed. "And they went out damn quick when we faced that chicken-snake. What a bum deal."

Volta smirked. "It do be like that sometimes. Anyway, you've got your training swords and emergency money together, so does that mean we're heading off?"

"That's right." Zoro's expression became serious, even more so then when they had faced that accursed monster. "My swords aren't doing too well." He pulled all three out halfway, and Volta gulped. Wado Ichimonji looked alright, though Volta wasn't an expert on swords and didn't think he'd be able to tell one way or the other. But the other two were a different matter; hairline cracks ran through them, and even as Zoro slid them back in Volta swore he saw a piece fell off.

"Damnit," he snarled. "I keep using too much of my strength! I don't know if I can get these two fixed this time." He slumped in his seat, brooding over his empty glass.

Volta pulled out his rapier and inspected it closely. He slid the blade out, eyeing his reflection. "How's this?"

Zoro gave it a glance. "Not terrible. Meito blades can take a beating and still be as sharp as ever, though you should get it looked at when we go see Kajiya."

"Who's that?"

"The only blacksmith in this part of the East I trust." A terrible growling filled the air. Volta looked down. "Maybe we should eat something first," he said. "Food helps one think, as a friend of mine once said."

A quick lunch ensued, the suitcases and shinai stored under the table. Zoro added his crackers to the meal; tasteless, but suprsingly filling. "How expensive is this blacksmith?" Volta asked between bites of fried rice.

"Fairly cheap," Zoro answered, followed by a great slurping of spaghetti.

"I need new clothes," Volta stated. "I can't just run around the East wearing these pants. They're so stiff I can barely sit down in them."

Zoro pursed his lips. Then he smiled like a cat. "There's a tailor just down the street. I think he's your guy."

.~===)==============={%}

Ocket P. Lint's Professional Tailory was small, but tightly packed, filled with racks and shelves to the point of looking overstuffed. But there was a neatness within the chaos, a fastidiousness that spoke of great care and effort. Volta didn't consider himself a man with a fashion sense, but he liked what he saw. Everything looked comfortable but attractive, and while he wouldn't be caught dead in half of it, he had a feeling there was something here for everyone.

Mr. Lint appeared, a small, wrinkled old raisin of a man with a twirled gray mustache and eyes as sharp as diamonds. His own little suit looked tailor-made, but of course it did. As soon as they locked eyes, a smile spread across his face. "Bounty hunters."

"That's right," Volta said. "We're here for some white shirts and a new outfit."

"Hm, I can tell who needs what," Lint muttered. He brushed some of his namesake from his jacket, before reaching past Zoro and flipping the shop's sign. "Follow me."

Through the overstuffed racks and precarious shelves of fabric, they followed him all the way behind the counter, into a back room in the officer. Mr. Lint gave them both the evil eye. "My blood, sweat, and tears have gone into the creation of everything within this room. Don't tell a soul what's back here."

They nodded in agreement, and he opened the door. Volta gasped.

A vast, bizarre selection of outfits, so ludicrous they could only have existed within the confines of a circus, a fashion show, or…well, a Japanese comic book. Suits with holes in them, shirts covered in zippers, a whole line of thick brown longcoats with golden chains attached to their sides. Witch and wizard hats in an array of garish colors, boots that went up to the knee with gleaming buckles, shoulder pads, striped scarfs, a freaking sailor outfit complete with cap and ascot…

Volta slapped himself. He had started to go cross-eyed. "That's the usual reaction," Lint sniffed. "Now then…"

He reached into a large crate, pulling out a stack of five white shirts identical to Zoro's. "Yours looks in poor condition, here are some spares." He threw them to the swordsman, who stuffed them all into his haramaki. Which didn't puff out in the slightest?

"How much stuff can you fit in there again?" Volta asked incredulously.

Zoro grinned. "Just more stomach training. Hey Lint, I could use a new pair of trouser too." He tossed them the swordsman's way, and they too disappeared into the dark abyss between fabric and chest.

Lint turned to Volta, his eyes twitchy but observant. "Now, as for you…hmm…correct me if I'm wrong, but your tattoos aid you in combat, yes?"

For just a second, the young hunter's eyes popped right out of his head, then jumped back in. He would have screamed if he wasn't so shocked. "How?!"

"When you're in the business as long as I've been," Lint smirked, "You know a hunter's schtick with a look. Same with pirates… not that I'd sell to them."

"I see…" Volta furrowed his brow. "Then…what do you suggest for me?"

"We have many open jackets," Lint said as he rummaged through the racks of brown longcoats. "Mostly in this color." He looked at Volta again and frowned. "But brown isn't your style; it's black. Hmmm…."

The little man scurried to the way back of the room, a corner shrouded in dust and old fabric. He cackled with the glee of discovery, and from this mound of unused material, still hung on a fallen hanger, emerged an outfit of shocking edginess. A black longcoat, its sleeves cleanly removed just below the shoulders, which were studded with dozens of small, silver spikes. These spikes traveled up to a high-backed collar, wrapping around the back and stopping just short of the front edges, lest someone stab their neck while putting it on. The coat had no buttons and reached a little above the ankles. Folded on the hanger's inner bar was a pair of black trousers. Volta reached out and felt the garments, amazed at their softness. Curious, he gave it a soft tug, and it didn't tear at all. He tugged harder, but it still didn't give.

"You won't rip it easily," Lint said. "It's called stretch-silk; soft, flexible, and tough as nails. They make Marine coats out of it. Here, try it on."

Carefully, he pulled the coat off the hanger, slipped his arms through the holes, and slowly pulled it tight against his back, mindful not to prick himself. It fit perfectly. He turned to Zoro. "What do you think?"

The swordsman looked him over for quite some time. "It…fits. Honestly, I was prepared to laugh my ass off, but it suits you. Even compliments your tattoos."

In no time at all, Lint had a full-length mirror in front of the hunter. Volta couldn't believe his eyes. It looked so…natural. There was no other word for it. "Do you have a changing room?" he asked.

"Don't worry, Mister…"

"Volta. Damian Volta."

"Yes, right. Let's clear out! Give the man some privacy!" Before he could interject, Lint pushed Zoro right out of the room, a crazed grin on his face. "Tell me when you're ready!" And with that, he slammed the door, leaving Volta alone.

"I guess this is the changing room," he muttered. He removed the coat and hung it back up, searching the room for necessities. He found a box of white socks behind the sailor suit, the kind often used in sports and exercise. Taking off his boots, he donned a pair, wiggling his toes within to see how they fit. When he was satisfied, he pulled his pants off and tossed them, slipping on the black trousers and zipping them up. He put on his boots, tucked in the leg ends, and after a moment's consideration, licked his thumb and rubbed the buckles. When they shined in the weak light, he threw on the longcoat, utterly certain he would never cut himself upon its sharp edges. Then he faced the mirror.

"…FFFFFPHAHAHAHAHAHA!" He tried to stop laughing, but he couldn't help himself. "I look like a Hot Topic mascot," he wheezed. "There's no way I can wear this…no bloody way…"

And yet, he knew. Knew that no matter how hard he wanted to deny it, Zoro was right. Silly, gothic, quite literally edgy, but unquestionably dangerous. Volta touched one of the spikes and winced as it pricked his finger. Not enough to draw blood, but damn close. He smiled. "Edgy indeed…the right amount of edgy to take the edge off of suspicion. No one will take me seriously until it's far too late."

He spun, watching the coat twirl with him. He flapped it, the sound resonating through the room. It exposed his arms and chest, allowing the tattoos to spring forth without issue. Hell, with enough practice, he could make the ones on his back weave around his coat. His legs were completely covered, but he couldn't control the ink on them yet, so that was alright.

He put his hands on his hips, staring deep into his own reflection. He frowned. Something was missing. He felt as if he needed just a bit more to complete the getup. Then it hit him. A belt! His trousers had belt loops on them.

He searched the room more thoroughly, hunting for the accessory. He hit the jackpot with a small crate, full of tightly coiled leather and shiny buckles. Most were brown or gray, some made of cloth, but near the bottom, he found what he was looking for. Unwinding it, he caught sight of the buckle, and all thoughts of clothing slipped out of his mind.

A small silver circle, within which was a gleaming raven's head.

"Well," he breathed. "That's disconcerting. What the bloody hell does it mean?" He glared at it as if it would come alive and give him the answers he sought. "Raven on my back, raven on the buckle…coincidence? Maybe…" But he didn't believe it. Coincidence didn't exist in a world where you could turn into a beer bottle and shatter a boulder with a punch.

Still, he could dwell on the mystery later; he was taking too long. He slipped the belt through the loops and tightened it just so, sliding the extra leather through the loop again. It completed the outfit wonderfully, the buckle noticeable but far from garish, a welcome contrast to the pale skin and solid black flame patterns that stretched and swirled across his muscled chest.

"I'm done!" he called. The door swung open, and a high-pitched scream filled the room, one not uncommon among twelve-year-old school girls. "Magnificent!" Lint screeched, hopping up and down like a little mustachioed toad, face split by a grin that made him look decades younger. "Absolutely, magniiiiificent! I love it when a hunter finds their look! Truly, I've never seen anyone quite as snug in their clothing as you! Zoro, you much see this masterpiece of mine!"

"Hey, not bad!" Zoro complimented, a rare thing for him. "Damn, you even found a matching belt? What a coincidence!"

Volta smiled and nodded.

Suddenly, Lint stopped hopping, his smile fading. "Hmmmmm…I may have spoken too soon," he stated, all at once as grave as a tombstone. "It's beautiful, yes…but incomplete! You need a hat!"

The hunter snorted. "My hair will grow back eventually."

"It's not about your hair!" Lint exclaimed. "It's about style! Don't you want to look your best as you clobber criminals?!"

Volta blinked. "I…suppose…"

"Here, try this on!" Lint thrust a hat into Volta's arms, a wide-brimmed black fedora with a band of crimson he had pulled form…somewhere.

"…alright." Volta donned the hat, looked at himself in the mirror, and knew it wouldn't work. The red had no place, and the brim drooped over his eyes.

"Oh, you're right," Lint said, his sharp eyes noting the problem. "I let my excitement get the better of me, that won't work at all."

"If it's alright with you," Volta requested. "Let me pick the hat." He looked around the room, ignoring Lint's humph and Zoro's chuckle. A variety of hats sat on shelves above him, a few black but broken by strips of bright color. He looked at himself in the mirror again.

Bright colors weren't going to work with him; between his tattoos and pallor, he wouldn't look good in any of them. He needed something white.

And that's when his eyes settled on it. Perfect in every way. He reached up and grabbed it, feeling the dark fabric, tracing the bright white stripe that ran around it. The tip curved perfectly into a neat little spiral tipped with a pearl eerily similar to the one on the end of his sword's tassel.

He put it on, watched it slide over his bald spot, and knew it was meant to be. "I'll take it," he declared confidently.

Lint blinked, his mustache wilting. "But…but…that's…"

Zoro couldn't hold it in any longer. "HAHAHAHAHA!" He fell to the ground, roaring with laughter.

"I know it's a witch's hat," Volta sighed. "But it fits…doesn't it?"

Lint looked on the verge of a conniption. "Well…yes…but, I, how…it even synergizes with your head, but…oh, OH! YES, I SEE IT NOW!" He regained his vigor once more, clapping with delight. "MAGNIFICANT!"

"Magnificent indeed," Zoro wheezed. "What the hell, if it works for you, I've got no problem with it." He smiled maliciously. "But if sailing around with you makes people think I'm just as weird as you, you better be ready to experience hell."

"Trust me Zoro," Volta smirked. "You have nothing to worry about on that front."

"SNARK LATER, PAY NOW!" Lint cried. "I want you to go out into the world, let it experience the full glory of Damian Volta!"

"What's all this gonna cost?" Volta asked, a little afraid of the answer.

"Ten million, three hundred and fifty-eight thousand berries! Taxes are taken into account."

Zoro blanched. "That's crazy! You can buy a good sword with that money! Plus, Volta smells like mildew, this stuff is old!"

"And washable without shrinking!" Lint thundered. "As for you, I need ten thousand for each shirt!"

The swordsman turned red, but Volta put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not a problem," he said politely. "I have a little more then that, so I can pay. For the longcoat, hat, pants, and belt, right?"

"And the socks!" Lint declared. "Even socks weigh something! Don't think I didn't notice the additional effort you put into raising your foot!"

Now it was Volta's turn to blanch. "Bloody hell, you're good."

"Good doesn't even begin to cover it," Mr. Lint boasted. "Do you honestly think I'm on the same level as Doskoi Panda or D&B? Those stores only give you clothing you think you want, when in reality it is what everyone wears! I refuse to offer that wretched conformity! I refuse to offer just clothing…I will always offer style! Do not think for a moment I won't charge you less then the value of finding what makes you youI"

Volta nodded. "I said I would pay you, and I will. Zoro, where's my suitcase?"

"Right here," the green-haired teen said, placing it in Volta's awaiting hands. "We need to hurry, before those two lunkheads outside wake up."

Volta walked over to the buying counter and opened the suitcase, putting the thick stacks of paper in a little pile. "Alright, that's ten mil right there, and as for the other three hundred something-"

"Fifty-eight!" Lint reminded.

"Right, right." He broke up one of the stacks and counted the bills by hand until all the money was on the table. Lint giggled with glee as he stuffed the cash under his desk, while Volta took off his hat and set it on the counter, searching it for a tag. "Do you still need to ring this up?"

"I don't use tags," Lint stated pridefully. "I refuse to conform!"

Before Volta could respond, he felt a sudden stinging in his hand. Stuck near the curling tip of the hat was a small pin, the kind used for sewing. Its rounded top was grayish-green, and it had pricked the hunter hard enough to draw a little drop of blood.

Volta pulled it out. "Bloody hell, even this hat has a sharp-"

SHUMP!

Zoro, admiring a Hawaiian-style vest, jerked at the sound. "The hell was that noise?"

"What noise?" Lint asked, closing his desk drawer. He looked up. "Hey…where's Volta?"

The swordsman turned toward the counter, but only Lint stood near it. Volta was nowhere to be seen.

"What?!" Zoro rushed over. "How the-"

SHUMP!

Lint blinked, then rubbed his eyes. Where Zoro had once stood was…no one.

No one at all.

.~===)==============={%}

Zoro hit the table so hard it cracked in two. He rolled off it with a groan, and immediately felt a sudden softness. He shook his head to get his bearings and found himself on a long sofa, the color of cream and almost too comfortable.

The situation was too strange for Zoro to relax, and he immediately got to his feet, Wado Ichimonji out and ready. "Volta! Where the hell are we?!"

"That's a very good question," he replied. "And I think I know the answer." Volta was staring at the ceiling, mouth agape. Zoro looked up, and his mouth fell open.

They were in a small, square room, but the Tailory's ceiling was still over their heads. Only, it looked much, much further away, a great gap laying between it and the tops of the walls. Which could only mean that, for the room Volta and Zoro were in right now, there wasn't a ceiling, just an opening from which they could see the larger world. And that, in turn, meant only one thing.

"We've shrunk!" Volta cried. "We've gone inside something and shrunken in the process!"

"What?!" Zoro cried. "How is that possible?!"

Then Lint appeared. The little man had grown monstrous, a giant whose head filled the open space. A deeply befuddled expression sat on his face, and he brought his head closer to the room.

Then, without warning, it happened. For just a fraction of a second, Lint seemed to warp, as if his head had been squeezed through a juicer. And then he was falling, hitting the table and crashing right through it.

"OOH, MY SLEEEN!"

Zoro rushed to the old man's aid, getting him to his feet. With a sickening crack, Lint straightened, then smiled. "Never mind, just my spinal cord."

"That's even worse!" Zoro cried. "And just to make sure we don't forget, I'll say it again; where the hell are we?!"

"That is a good question indeed," Lint gasped, staring at the ceiling. "In all my years of selling magic hats, I've never encountered one as strange as this!"

"Magic?!" Volta cried. "Why didn't you tell me the hat was magic?!"

"It's a witch's hat!" Lint shouted back. "I thought that would be obvious!"

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" Zoro roared. He took a very long breath, counted to seven on his fingers, and exhaled long and hard. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. "Volta," he began, voice level. "Do you have an idea of where we are?"

Before Volta could answer, a creaking sounded from the ruined table. It began to rise from the ground, reforming into a solid, well-polished piece of furniture again. The two halves melded together, and the countless splinters around them flew back where they had been. In just a few seconds, no trace of damage remained.

"Fuck me," Zoro breathed.

"Language."

The swordsman ignored him, staring hard at the table. Without warning, he slashed clean through it with his blade, then brought his fist down right after. It buckled and cracked, and for a moment all was still. Then the repairs began anew. Zoro winced as a splinter in his fist ripped itself out, shook his blood off, and slipped back into the wood.

"Oh, fuck me," he moaned. "What the hell has my life become? How did I go from training and drinking to fighting giant snake chickens and fetching golden plants for cheapskate doctors? And now I'm stuck inside a living living room!"

"You fought a Chicantazor?!" Lint exclaimed. "Most impressive!"

"Zoro, calm down," Volta soothed. "I don't think we're stuck." He jumped onto the table, looking up at the wooden rafters far above them. He jumped again.

SHUMP!

He didn't feel pain; just a slightly uncomfortable pressure that disappeared before it had a chance to fully register. And he was back in the shop, right where he had been standing. The hat lay on the counter, slightly ruffled.

"Hey, guys! Can you hear me?!"

"Yeah, I hear you! Step aside!"

Volta did so, and a moment later Zoro appeared, spat out of the hat so fast it looked like…well, magic.

Then Lint appeared, knocking into the swordsman and sending him sprawling onto the ground. "I'm free!" he cried. "I'll never dabble in magic again! I'm too old for this stuff!"

Volta ran around the counter, grabbing the hat by the floppy top. "Everyone stay back," he commanded. "This thing is sensitive. All it takes to get-"

SHUMP!

An entire rack of Hawaiian shirts disappeared as if it had never been. Volta gulped and tried to set the hat down carefully.

SHUMP!

And there went the briefcase, with the remains of Volta's money. As well as a stack of corduroys.

"Damnit Volta," Zoro growled. "Forget style, I'm cutting this hat in two!"

"Don't!" Lint cried. "Magical items are unstable! Who knows what could happen if you try to destroy it! My shop could be ruined!"

Volta very, very carefully set the hat upright on the counter, opening closed off at last. Nothing happened. "Mr. Lint, is this counter nailed to the floor?"

"Indeed."

"Alright, then we know this thing has limits. It can only suck in things that aren't connected to bigger things. And the room and furniture inside are a part of the power and can regenerate if damaged." He looked at the pin, still between his thumb and pointer finger. "I think this little needle cancels out the ability. If I put it back in, I can wear it without a problem."

"No, wait!" Lint cried. "If it cancels the ability, then that means-"

But it was too late. Volta stabbed it back through the tip, and all at once the items it had consumed shot out, crushing the counter under their weight. Shirts and corduroys flew everywhere, Volta's briefcase whacking Lint on the head, knocking him out cold.

Volta blinked. "Oops."

"Oops is right," Zoro groaned. "I think it's time for us to go."

The rushed out of the store in a hurry, Volta leaving his briefcase behind. Something told him poor Mr. Lint would need it more then he did soon.

.~===)==============={%}

Once again, Retasu Island disappeared over the horizon, the two hunters traveling toward their next destination.

"Well, turning in those small fries got us a million and forty grand, but in two days' time, we still went from twenty-five million to a bit more then twelve," Zoro grumbled. "I try not to care too much about money, but if we keep up this pace we'll be starving by the end of this week."

"I'm sorry things got so out of hand," Volta apologized, resting against the railing. He watched the deckhands carefully but didn't sense anything off about them. Which was a relief; maybe their next stop would be peaceful for once.

"But you know, this magic hat could come in handy."

"How?" Zoro questioned. "You can't store anything in it, because the moment you put the pin back in to wear the damn thing, it all comes flying out!"

"Maybe that's because we're using it wrong," Volta countered. "I'll explore it later, but right now I could use a nap. So could you, to be honest; you don't look like you've slept well these past few days." He leaned back further, tipping the hat over his eyes.

Zoro shrugged. "I love naps, but all this crazy stuff has me on edge. I didn't expect things to get so strange."

"That goes double for me," Volta smirked. "This world is totally bananas. I wish I had escaped my homeland years ago." Not that I would have been able to, he added mentally.

"Hm…you know, all this weird stuff started happening when I met you."

"Don't blame me for your problems!" Volta laughed. "I'm sure you would have fought that Chicantazor sooner or later. You're like a magnet for near-death experiences!"

"If that's what it takes for me to be the World's Greatest Swordsman, then so be it." Zoro turned over. "I just hope I meet Mihawk one day soon. Three more years and this dream will be a decade old." He closed his eyes with a smile. "I don't want Kuina to have to wait very much longer."

"What did you say?" Volta asked.

But Zoro had already fallen asleep. Volta smiled, before drifting off himself.


Author's Note:

Tailory is not a word, but it should be. Baker to bakery, tailor to tailory. The Magic Hat is another holdover from my SI attempt, BANG! And believe it or not, Tacobo and Sard ARE actual One Piece characters, though one is only seen on his poster in a filler episode and the other in an anime-only flashback. Still pretty cool!

Yeomanaxel, the Verified Yeo.

EDIT: Oops, forgot to change the title! All fixed now.