Hey buds! A big 'ol thank you for reading this! I'm not a super experienced writer, so if any part is confusing please feel free to let me know! I'm gonna do the best I can to keep everything consistent, but i'm not gonna be too picky, some bits of canon might slip through the cracks. Here's to hoping y'all stick with me!
This story has a nonbinary protagonist who uses they/them pronouns. This is from my limited perspective, so try to keep that in mind and feel free to leave a review or a pm if you have questions/critiques.
I don't own One Piece, by the way.
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It was nearing midday when Dan emerged from the little ship into the crowded streets of Loguetown. They stretched their cramped muscles and momentarily basked in the heat of the cloudless sky. They couldn't pause for long, but they appreciated the short respite after a long few weeks at sea.
As the sun glanced off their lengthy body it seemed to light them from within, giving their skin the appearance of burnished gold. Their long hair undulated in the soft breeze, and they tucked it behind their ear in an effort to keep it out of their eyes.
Dan hadn't the heart to complain about the unexpected trip to Loguetown. Any irritation they'd felt was now largely outweighed by nervous anticipation. Their joints, however, had no qualms about resenting the distance they had spent folded in on themself like a pocket square.
They found themself fidgeting with the hem of their shirt whenever they thought about the reason they'd left Rhonne Island in the first place. They bounced lightly on the balls of their feet and wriggled their toes in their heavy boots.
When Dan's father had presented them with the address of a weapons shop for their birthday instead of plying them with the usual sweets and various packages of tea they had been confused. Weapons? They had no experience with weapons.
When they'd voiced this concern their father had merely given them a fond look and said that no, he didn't plan on watching them dick around with a katana for a few days until they got bored and never looked at it again. Dan would usually have been embarrassed by the comment, but they'd been practically writhing with curiosity.
Instead, he'd explained, he and Dr. Serene had combined their efforts to get them some top-quality replacements for their work tools. At their surprise he'd chuckled in his rumbling voice, "Ah kiddo, you thought we wouldn't notice? You've always had trouble balancing control and power. Hopefully with these babies you won't have to worry about it anymore, and I won't have to listen to Martin's whining when you've broken his shit for the billionth time."
They'd tried to speak but found they couldn't make a sound past the lump of emotion in their throat. Dan had simply hugged Brian Myers to their chest with careful gentleness, letting the contact linger. His enormous arms had encircled them after a few moments of hesitation.
They were both unused to such prolonged affection and soon grew restless. When they'd drawn apart neither of them could look at the other, but each had a smile on their lips.
Presently, Dan was nearly glowing with excitement as they set out to find a certain sword shop.
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The shop was disappointingly quaint for the dangerous merchandise it boasted.
Barrels of low quality katanas crowded around the edges of the room and the shop owner sat looking smug at the desk. Dan eyed his hair dubiously. If his taste was indicative of his character they were not particularly convinced of his trustworthiness. There was a shrewd look about him that spoke of an opportunistic nature and a willingness to mislead a customer for profit.
Their father had already covered the cost of the order, including the price of holding it until they could pick it up, so he would have no luck in cheating them out of any beli.
While they were musing, a flash of color caught their eye–.
Oh. They had been so busy judging the owner for his life choices that they didn't realize there were other patrons. A man with bright green hair and tanned skin was skimming the stock of cheap weapons. A woman with glasses looked to be advising the man on which katana to choose.
Dan didn't pay them much attention, though they did take a momentary glance at the man's musculature while his back was turned. Purely out of curiosity of course.
They smirked faintly once they'd finished looking him over. Not bad at all.
After that little distraction, Dan headed up to the counter, took a deep breath to calm their anxious energy, and addressed the man with suspiciously terrible hair.
"I have two items that should be held on reserve." Their voice was low and heavy, like smoke.
They had grown all too used to being silent. Their father was not often in a talkative mood and living alone with him had not heightened their social skills. They struggled to keep the appearance of confident professionalism and not to fidget.
They were on their own now, and there was a growing need for them to become more comfortable with maintaining conversations. Better start with not getting scammed out of their money. Any lingering stiffness in their interactions could be dealt with later.
The shopkeeper looked up from the newspaper he had been pretending to peruse while he watched the man pick through the barrels with a scheming eye.
"Name? And craftsman?" He asked with little interest.
"Darian Myers. The order was filled by the smith Hess. I was notified that it was completed and waiting for me at this location. It has already been paid for." Ugh, they sounded so stilted. Now everyone's gonna think they have a stick up their ass.
Recognition came to his face. "Ah, yes. I have your order in the back. You'll have to get 'em yourself. They're stupidly heavy–."
He was cut off by the glasses woman, who was gushing over a katana the man was currently examining, "That's definitely the Sandai Kitetsu! It's predecessor, the Nidai Kitestu was one of the Oowaza-mono! And the Shoudai Kitetsu was one of the Saijiou Oowaza-mono!"
She turned to address the shopkeeper, who seemed to grow more and more agitated with each sentence, "Mister, are you sure you want to sell this for just 50,000 berries? It's a legendary sword!"
Legendary, huh? What was that doing with what were essentially bargain bin katana?
Dan had exactly zero knowledge about what any of those eminent-sounding names meant, but clearly there was something special about that sword if it had such a prestigious background.
Then again, for it to be sold for so cheap there must be wrong with it.
The woman turned to the swordsman, "You should get it! That sword is worth 1,000,000 berries! It's a great deal!"
At that the shopkeeper's restraint seemed to snap, and he burst out with a yell of protest:
"No way! I won't sell it!"
"Ah, I thought so," The woman seemed disappointed but unsurprised, "to sell such a renowned sword for so little wouldn't be possible."
The green haired man, who had been quiet while the woman was speaking, took a few experimental swings and spoke, face grim, "It's cursed."
The sleazy shopkeeper tensed with shock, "You knew?!"
"I can feel it."
And there it is. Also, weird flex but ok.
Protective anger flashed through Dan, quelling their nerves, "Why would you put cursed merchandise on display? What the hell are you playing at?" More importantly, was it contagious?
He blanched, "W-well, I-I just put it there for, uh, you know, as a test!"
Their eyes narrowed "A test of what, exactly?"
He was visibly sweating now, "The prowess, er, uh, the prowess of a swordsman?"
Dan was severely unimpressed, inwardly relishing the way he squirmed at their look of extreme displeasure. Sure, they wouldn't actually hurt him, but he didn't need to know that. This guy seemed like he needed a good threatening.
Seeing his first excuse didn't have the desired effect he tried again, beginning to tremble slightly, "To-to see who's worthy of a discount?"
That those sentences had audibly ended in question marks did not lend much credence to them. They reached forwards with their left arm and lightly gripped the edge of the counter.
An ominous creaking filled the room, and around their hand small pieces of wood began falling away, clattering softly to the floor. The room suddenly smelled of sawdust.
They felt the shop watching them as the other patrons were drawn to the sudden action.
"It is none of my business how you run your shitty shop," they began pleasantly, "but if either of my shovels are affected by this so-called curse, you may soon be finding yourself in need of a brand new set of bones." They readied their fist as though they were about to carry out a swift and murderous retribution.
The man jumped to attention in fear, "NO! No, that will NOT be necessary, your order is perfectly unblemished by any–," The man hurried to reassure them, but before he could do anything more to mend his damaged reputation three confident words cut through the creeping menace in the air like butter:
"I'll take it."
Stunned, Dan and the storeowner turned to face the man with the green hair and the nice ass in tandem, forgetting their quarrel to be momentarily united in shock.
The fuck?
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Following an incredibly unlikely display of luck and skill, after which the swordsman's limb had miraculously remained attached to his body, Dan eventually gathered themself enough to demand their animosity that had been blooming between them had been dampened by a sense of camaraderie, formed by the mutual witnessing of something unbelievable. The shopkeeper took them to the back without protest.
They drew in a sharp breath when they finally set eyes on the brown wrapping. They took it in their hands reverently, all but forgetting the shopkeeper.
Dan admired the weight of the package, clutching it to their chest as a parent would cradle their own child. The desire to tear it open and see them was almost overwhelming, but they managed to hold onto the impulse until they finished checking out. They only had to sign their name and give him some basic information and proof of purchase.
Soon, they were hurrying over to the corner of the shop, eagerly peeling back the layers of protective wrapping surrounding their new tools. Even those who had no working knowledge of shovels would have to admit they were beautifully made.
The two were longer than average, and with wider heads than one would usually see, each boasting the weight of a full grown person but balanced so beautifully that Dan hardly felt any strain. Although they were likely manageable for the short term, Dan knew it was probable that they would be difficult to use for long periods of time until their muscles fully adapted.
The pointed digger was made for carrying away vast quantities of dirt in a short amount of time, which was not a particularly lovely quality, but certainly an admirable one for a shovel to have. It was large and a bit unwieldy, and yet it provided a sense of unwavering support.
It lacked the grace of the long-handled spade, which was meant to be used to chip away at rocks and particularly hard ground, making the head more dagger-like in shape, but the deadly likeness belied just how svelte it was. It felt almost sinuous in their hand.
Each was simple perfection. And they were Dan's.
As they examined the expert craftsmanship there was a single moment where their eyes grew misty with pure the moment passed, and they were left standing calmly, if maintaining an uncommon warmth. As they came to their senses, they found themselves meeting the gaze of the swordsman, whom they had not noticed the presence of until that moment.
A glint of light from his hip caught their attention. Where once there was only one, now three swords gleamed at his sensed a spark of interest skate around the edges of their mind, but it was greatly overshadowed by the heady feeling that hadn't faded from seeing their shovels for the first time.
"You fight with those things?" He asked, amused.
Dan grinned, "Nope. I'm gonna dig some really nice holes with 'em."
The man chuckled, and began heading away, raising a hand in farewell, "Well," he said, "if you ever get sick of digging holes and you want a match, look me up. Judging by the way you were crushing that table, it might be fun."
Dan internally scoffed at the idea that they would ever tire of holes, but they huffed out a noise of agreement nonetheless.
They watched the man until his back had disappeared into the crowded square, only to realize that he never told him which name to look him up by. Not that they ever would look him up, even if he looked like a pretty damn badass guy. Oh well.
Putting that aside, Dan hoisted their shovels over their shoulder. They made a note to themself to figure out a less taxing way to carry both of them around since they could tell this method would be getting old real fast. Nothing they could do about it for now though.
Setting out, Dan brought up a mental list of things to do in Loguetown, ticking off the swordshop. Next up was replenishing their supplies and maybe booking a ride back to Rhonne Island if they could find a ship willing to take them out that far. It was a bit of an implausible hope, especially on such short notice. They, or rather, their employer, had considered the possibility that they might have to find temporary lodging in Loguetown before they would be able to buy transportation back home, but there hadn't been much Dan could do about it.
Rhonne Island's average citizens had very little way of contacting the outside world. Den den mushii were a scarce resource, owned only by the most wealthy and influential people on the island, of which there were few to begin with. Dan and their father weren't the worst off, but this whole venture had certainly drained their pockets of what they did have until their father got a commission or could sell off a few more headstones. It was a strange thing to have to hope for.
Dr. Serene, faced with limited options, had given Dan a list of the shopkeepers in the area who owed him a debt for one reason or another. Dan was to show any of them his ring as a token of confirmation, and when they recognized it, they would let Dan stay for the night. Maybe even more than one, depending on the person.
"Listen up," he had said, "you don't want to go messing with most of these people. I've been around long enough that I've collected a few enemies in my time, even if most of 'em look like they couldn't hurt a fly if they wanted to. Most of those bastards owe me shit because they've done some fucked up shit and I helped cover their asses. I know you can take care of yourself fair enough in these waters, but don't go making trouble for your father and I to clean up if you don't have to, got it?"
Oh they'd gotten it. Now they just had to visit a few places to stock up on some supplies, maybe find lunch, and then try to meet up with a suspicious, possibly homicidal stranger and ask if they could crash at their house. What could possibly go wrong?
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Ah, thanks for reading this! I hope the writing wasn't too bad, but let me know what you guys think. I have a bit more written for this already, so the possibility that I'll release more of it eventually is pretty high. Hope everyone is doing well, and thanks again.