Volume Five – Trials of Will

Fifty Two – A Mysterious Visitor? Returning to the Kingdom of Sand

The first sensation is heat. Intense, painful heat. My skin is scorched and dry. It hurts to move, but still I try, discovering the second sensation: sand. Tiny grains of rough sand scratch all around me, my skin, my mouth, my gills where it burns horribly, even in my eyes, though they are squeezed shut. I cough out the nasty stuff that's dried the inside of my mouth into a wasteland. Water… I need water. I sit myself up and sand cascades off my body. I musta been half-buried in it. But just where is 'it'? Opening my eyes, they are filled with near-blinding light, coupled with a terrible, itching, burning pain that instantly forces them closed again. Where in the world am I!? I had been soaring over the ocean, propelled by Bartholomew's attack, but I do not remember ever landing. I remember falling asleep; my unexpected three-day journey must have ended then. But just where did it take me? I can't even open my eyes to see!

"Hello!?" I yell into the air, not caring for the consequences. My voice has become weak, three days without water coupled with the sandy dryness making it hoarse and raspy. "Anyone there!?" I listen carefully for an answer, past the quiet wind into the realm beyond it. I think I can just barely make something out, but I can't be sure if it's real or just an illusion, sounds in my head. There is nothing else to go on though, so trudgingly, blindly I make for that direction, slogging my feet through the thick sand, praying I find something, anything other than a sandy grave. A few minutes later I try shouting again, but nothing returns to my ears. I try opening my eyes for just a moment, but the pain is too much. I continue on, but my legs are barely even working anymore, until I'm dragging my feet through the sand, getting nowhere. A dizziness then quickly overtakes me, and it isn't long before I simply collapse back into the sand, into the heat, into the fire, into the darkness.


When I come to, I am not even sure if I'm still among the living. I slink in and out of consciousness, from dream to reality and back again until I can't tell which is which, where I am, if I even am anymore. It isn't until I try to open my eyes, out of some strange subconscious impulse lingering from a dream, and am rewarded with sharp pain amidst hazy blurs of orange that I am jolted awake. I close them again and try to rub them with a pair of tentacles, but my limbs are weak, and even lifting one up to my face is a strenuous effort. It is then that the rest of my body remembers its sorrows as well, and my entire frame groans in aches and pains. Still I try and stretch my arms and legs, at least move them around a bit, hoping perhaps that will ease things up if I rid them of their stiffness, but no luck. The pain remains exactly the same.

Then, the sound of a few words are spoken behind a wall, and after that a wooden door creaking open, and a potent warmth rushes in to wherever I am to heat the air. "Ah! Miss!" An tired, raspy voice exclaims. "Miss, you shouldn't be moving around! You've not recovered enough!" I feel a calloused hand gently touch my shoulder and surprisingly, it calms me; I don't recoil as usual. My muscles relax, and he must've felt it. "There we go. I'm glad to see you're awake now, but you really shouldn't stress yourself – you're lucky to even be alive!"

"Where-" I try to speak, but my voice is almost gone.

The man shushes me. "Don't try to talk." I hear the sloshing about of a liquid. "Here, drink." The rim of a cup touches my bottom lip and warm water pours into my mouth, bringing with it a tremendous relief.

"Thank you… whoever you are." I'm able to say after the liquid has passed through my throat. My voice is still incredibly hoarse, but it doesn't hurt quite as much to speak. "Where am I?"

"You're in Yuba." The old voice responds. I hear him set down the cup. "My son, Kohza, found you collapsed in the desert a half mile from the town's edge and brought you back here. He'll probably be glad to hear you're awake."

"Is that… so?" I say. "I'm thankful." I pause for a moment. "So I'm in a desert?"

The old man waits a moment before responding. I realize it was a rather foolish thing to ask, and that he's probably wondering how in the world I could not know that. "Well, of course you are!" He finally says.

"R-Right, 'course," I stammer. "I reckon you don't see much of my kind here, then. To be truthful, I'm s'prised you helped at all. Most folk just turn a blind eye. Oh! That reminds me, is there any of that water left?" I ask. My throat is scratched up again from all the talking, but that's not what I want it for.

"Just a bit." The old man answers. "Yuba is situated around an oasis, but water is still scarce here. Do you need another drink?"

"No, thank you. It's my eyes. I need to wash 'em out; they're filled with sand."

"Ah, I see. Yes, I can imagine that would be a problem for someone like you in a place like this." I hear something move along the floor. "The bowl is right here. Can you feel it?" I carefully move my hands in front of me, and in a gesture of kindness, he holds my wrist and guides it towards the bowl. I feel in the water with a finger, than happily dip my face in it and open up my eyes. The feeling is wondrous. I wipe my eyes clean, blink several times, and then bring my head back. Finally able to see again, I take a quick look around. I am in a small room with beige sandstone walls, sitting on a flimsy wooden bed. In front of me sits a small, very skinny old man with a bushy moustache, and beyond him an open door leading into a dusty brown hallway.

Not even ten seconds after I take my head out of the bowl, the stinging in my eyes returns, more sand finding its way in. I squeeze them shut again, reflexively bringing my hands to try and rub the sand out, but no luck.

"Oh, my apologies!" Says the old man. "Here, let me close that door." I hear the wood groan again, and the room becomes a bit quieter. I try washing my eyes out once more, but this time keep them closed as I pull my face out from the water. "I imagine you're famished, so I'll see what I can scrounge up. You stay here and get some rest."

"You ain't gotta do all this, really…" I insist.

The old man elicits a weak laugh. "Well, I can't just let you starve, now can I? Don't worry, it's not a problem at all, Yuba may be a bit of a ghost town, but we're in the process of restoring it, so we're doing fine. There's even aid from the capital that makes all the way out here."

The capital? "Just where am I? What island is this?"

Again, a stupid question to ask. I couldn't see the man's expression with my eyes closed of course, but I imagine it was something perplexed. "My, you are a strange one, aren't you? This is Alabasta."

Alabasta. I am brought back to the only time I had ever come here, to that horrible tragedy at Goldshore, back when I was still with the Fang Frogs. Not a place I was ever fixin' to come back to. "I see… Thank you kindly." I tell him.

"Not at all." He says. "My name is Toto by the way; feel free to call if you need anything." He says as he closes the door. He ain't even asked me my name and he's takin' care a' me. The old man's too nice. Too nice for someone like me, at least. I lie back down on the shabby bed, glad to rest my aching body.

I don't have the chance to fall asleep, as Toto returns shortly with something to eat. To my starved senses it smells delicious, whatever it is. When he hands it to me, I end up devouring it in record time, so all I could discern about what I just ate was it was some kind of pastry filled with a leafy green, probably spinach. Something finally in my belly, I fall back onto the bed, and am out like a light before the old man is even out of the room.


I have one of those falling dreams. I was descending out of the clouds towards a great island surrounded by thick clouds, and on that island is a beautiful city of glittering stone and shining glass, and just before I crash into the tallest tower at its center, I am awoken.

I jostle around a bit in the bed, fortunately remembering to keep my eyes closed this time. "You awake?" A man's voice says, almost in a whisper. Something about it is familiar, but I'm too groggy from waking up to pinpoint what it is.

"I am now." I say. Weird dream. But who's this guy? Is it Toto's son he mentioned?

The man makes a noise halfway between a quiet laugh and a scorning 'Tch'. "So sorry to bother you, princess." He says snidely. "The screws in that old man's head must be loose. Why bother with a dried up fish in the middle of the desert when you've already got more work than you can handle restoring this crummy ghost town?" He's got a cocky attitude about him that rubs me the wrong way.

What now? That ain't somethin' the man what saved my life'd say… "Wait a second… You ain't-"

"Kohza? You about to say Kohza?" I was, but I don't let him know that. "Honestly, it must run in the family, those two. I didn't believe my ears when he said he found a fishwoman collapsed in the desert. And of course, it just had to be you, didn't it?"

I sit up, fully awake. "W-What…?" I stutter. "Do I know you? Who are you?" I want to open my eyes, but I know full well that would cause more harm than help.

He laughs under his breath. "You haven't figured me out yet? I admit, I'm not the most easily recognizable of folks – at least not like you, princess."

'Princess'… who else called me that…? Wait! Could it be… "Larson!?" I gasp, realizing the identity of the mystery man.

"Bingo! We have a winner!" Without any hesitation, I back away from his voice, towards the wall, and move my arms and tentacles in front of me to defend myself. "What's this? Afraid?" He taunts.

"I ain't forgotten what you tried to do last time we was alone in a room together, asshole." I growl.

He groans. "Well I have. And I'd prefer not to be reminded of the idiotic thing I almost did."

"Oh? I never took you for the repentant type, Larson."

"Pssh. You think too highly of yourself, princess. I wouldn't be caught dead doing that with the likes of a fish is all." He says, a cocky-toned brutal honesty. "I'm not here to pick a fight with you, though. I'm not stupid; I may have the power of a Devil's Fruit, but it won't do me a lick of good in this tiny room. But make no mistake Aki, things aren't over. I have nothing but hatred for you and your kind."

"You think I don't know that already?" I quip back. "Kiba told me just before you fit that fat fox captain; your hometown was attacked and destroyed by fishmen when you was young." I pause for a moment, catching my breath. My mouth is dry from the desert heat and aridness, and it makes talking a chore. I can hear Larson's breathing become heavier, angrier. "What if I told you the exact same thing happened to me when I was young? That my hometown was also-"

"I know!" He shouts, indignant. "I know it was, Aki Sinagra!"

He what? "You… know?" I stammer. "How the hell would you…?"

"Oh come on! Put two and two together!"

He ain't… is he? "Are you… from Redcliff as well?"

"Thank the stars! You're not as dumb as I feared. Tell me, did that tax your little fish brain to its limit?" He groans. "Of course, nobody called me Larson back then; they had a nickname for me."

I ignore his relentless ridiculing. "Wait a second! Larry? You're Larry!?" That asshole kid!? "But I thought for sure I was the only one! The only one who survived!"

"As did I, princess. Then what to my eyes should appear, over ten years later, but the very catalyst for all the suffering I went through since that tragedy? The very person I cursed all those years to make pay for what she caused?"

I'm stunned, appalled even. "So that's why? That's your excuse!?" I yell. "You devote your life to seekin' out a girl who maybe don't even exist no more!? What about your real enemy!?"

"You are my enemy, Aki! You and the whole damned fishfolk race! If it wasn't for you, those fishmen would've never come to Redcliff, and none of this would've happened! I might've been someone then!" I hear a boot meet a wooden stool in anger and kick it to the wall. "Not some nobody ex-pirate doing menial labor out in the middle of a goddamned desert!"

I can barely contain my temper. "You think you're the only one who's suffered, Larson!? D'you ever stop to think what I went through? You had an enemy of folks entirely different than you! An easy target to hate! But me? I was my enemy! You got any idea what that'll do to a seven year old's mind? It messed me up for years! Hell, I still ain't all right." The words are terribly hard to say, and not just because of the lack of moisture in the air. I've never been good at admitting my own faults and flaws, and I try to think of myself as being in the right, but it's times like this that make me look back and question myself, and I can't stand doing that. But I continue on. "And the real enemy, the Sun Pirates who destroyed our home and everyone we knew, what have you done to seek them out? Anythin'!?"

He tries to protest, but I can tell my words have stung into him. "I… I didn't know who they were specifically, I only-"

"Neither did I!" I shout. "But I searched and I discovered their identity! And I devoted my entire life to gettin' strong enough to hunt 'em down and make 'em pay for every life they stole!" My head hurts from all the yelling; I try to calm my nerves for a moment. The adrenaline wanes, and my voice lowers. "I even managed to find one a' their ringleaders, or rather I found the man what did him in and settled my score."

"Are you serious?" Larson gasps. For the first time I don't hear that cocky tone of voice he always carried with him. "You really know who did it?"

"I've been on their trail almost a year now. The others I'm pretty sure are at Fishman Island, and I was almost there until…"

"Until…?"

The pounding in my head worsens. "Forget it." I say. "I'm too tired. Tired of bein' woken up in the middle of the night and tired of talkin' with you. Just get out of here and leave me be."

It takes a moment for Larson to leave, as though he suddenly found something of interest in the conversation other than simply venting his rage. But eventually I hear him stand, set the stool he knocked over back up right, open the door, and leave. My body and mind calm and the pain slowly seeps away, leaving me to a restful, well-appreciated night's rest.