Not Pirates, Treasure Hunters

Part 4 of 4 in a saga

A One Piece Fanfiction by Aoikami Sarah

Chapter Eight - Why Am I Talking To A Box?

A small ship skippered by a lone teenage boy sailed into the south harbor of Fortuna Island. He wore a light, black cotton shirt unbuttoned and a pair of grey shorts with a red stripe down each leg. His muscled physique belied his age. The longshoremen watched him as he walked up the pier.

"Eddy!" a robust man covered in tattoos called out when he passed by. Vane stopped and turned his head. "It is you! Damn, boy, you grown!"

A small crowd gathered around the teen, clapping him on the arm and asking how he'd been doing for the last four years. "Can't complain," he said with a smirk, avoiding the subject of piracy which was uncommon and even more shunned in the era of peace. "My folks still around?" he asked, coolly.

"Oh yeah, your mom's runnin' a gin-joint of her own these days and I think they live above it. Bar's called the Black Pearl," the tattooed man replied. Vane thanked him and wormed his way out of the crowd.

.x.

The Black Pearl was no bar. It was a three story stone building housing an inn, restaurant and music venue. Even in the middle of the afternoon, business was busy. Vane stood outside for a second and took a deep breath before entering. His parents were nowhere to be seen and none of the faces inside looked familiar. He slinked his way to the bathrooms and sneaked through a door marked 'private' behind which he found a staircase. It went up to the owner's apartment. He knocked before easily picking the lock and letting himself in.

Fresh flowers and exotic art prints decorated the space. The wall on the right was bare stone and the windows looked out onto the street. The furniture was Spartan but of good quality. The flat was tidy, but had evidence of both his mother and father's tastes sticking out here and there. A recent photo of them in front of the Black Pearl on its opening day stood on an end table. Vane picked this up and stared at it. He frowned and almost turned to leave but something startled him.

"Who's there!" he barked, raising his fists. The room was silent. "What?" he asked and spun around, looking for a source. In the corner of the living room, with a stack of coffee table books on top of it sat a large, wooden box - the same one Ace had brought with him when they left White Beard's ship. He knew it to house brass and silver tubes and leather bellows and other weird old-fashioned looking gadgets. It had been part of White Beard's medical apparatus - something to do with resuscitating the ailing pirate - and had for some unknown reason been handed down to his father on his captain's death.

Vane approached it slowly, his face screwed up with confusion. "Is someone inside the resuscitator?" he asked the box. He put his hand on its surface and his eyes widened. "Whoa. Seriously? But why me? Wait. Why am I talking to a box!"

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs drew his attention away for a moment. "What! But…" Vane's head flicked from the door to the box and back again a few times. "Ok!" he grinned. "I didn't want to see them, anyway!" He threaded his arms through the leather straps and was surprised by its lightness. "Hang on. We're blending through!" Vane touched the stone wall to his left and his hand seemed to melt into the rock.

When Vivace and Ace entered the apartment, there were coffee table books strewn all over the floor and Vane and the box were gone.

"Damn it," she cursed and put her hands on her hips. "He's buggered off."

Ace shrugged. "It was nice of him to visit." Vivace smacked his arm.