notes: heart girl summer.

—

methyl nitrate pineapples
hypothesis #43

brontide
(right as rain blues)

—

"You have to admit," she would say to Ikkaku years later, "it was pretty lucky he got sick, or we wouldn't have found you guys."

"Oh, absolutely. Though. I mean. He is our captain and the fever did almost kill him."

"Eh, he almost dies every day. It was worth it since you stayed." A beat. "And Iruka, of course." A beat. "And Clione…"

Ikkaku rested her chin on her arms, the sun warming her skin right above where her bikini tied together. "Can I ask you something? Was there ever an exact moment you decided to help us?"

She sipped her juice box, the answer too easy. "The moment you stepped on the Polar Tang and I saw the look on your face."

—

It was love at first sight, which seriously fucking troubled Ikkaku. She wasn't here to be a pirate. She was just here for the Surgeon of Death.

But he was 'currently inconvenienced by a teeny-weeny, not-at-all-worrisome illness', and it was the Alchemist who dropped off the heart in a locked crate, handed a bag full of medicine to a polar bear, and was now cleaning blood off her fingers. She was impressed by how fast Ikkaku got the power generators working again. Or, as the Alchemist put it, "Holly jolly cheese whiz, you could give our guys a run for their money. You wanna be pirates?"

Iruka signed, Do you think she's going to cook our spleens?

Fifty percent chance, Ikkaku signed back. She touched the engines briefly. If the Hearts could build something like this, they must be the sharpest fellas on the Grand Line. "No, we're looking for your captain. We'll work for passage to another island, but piracy isn't for us."

"Ikkaku-san," Clione whispered loudly, "are you going to tell them about Iruka's condition?"

"I told you he's cured." Ikkaku pulled her brother closer. He was eighteen, but he was small for his age and she stood a full head taller than him. "It's not a curse or a sin. It's not contagious." Out of superstitious habit, she swiped two fingers against her mouth and flicked the ill words away.

The polar bear motioned Clione to come with him to the men's cabin. Clione followed, boasting that he was the best swordfighter in his homeland. He seemed pleased that Ikkaku and Iruka made him look better, and then promptly forgot about them.

The Alchemist held out her hand and patiently waited for Iruka to give her back her slipper, and when he limped over, she saw his clawed hand that was splotched red from leprosy. "You want my captain to help your brother?"

Ikkaku flipped the wrench around her hand, which she always did when she was nervous. She lost her favorite quarter-inch socket wrench on Sabaody, but the pirates' tools glistened in the dark like diamonds, as if they'd been expecting her. "I heard the Surgeon can perform miracles. Like the miracles of Emporio Ivankov."

"For you or your brother?"

"Me," Ikkaku said, and thought of pouring herself a full glass of bubbly when it was done. She held onto that image like a lodestone.

The Alchemist showed them to her workroom, where they could sleep, and pointed down the passageways to the showers and the kitchen. Before she left, she asked, "What made you leave Omiramba?"

For a moment, Ikkaku submerged in the depths of a lake, otherworldly sunlight reflecting off a blue stone. She shrugged. "Searching for my fortune, I guess."

The Alchemist left, and she didn't lock the door, which was a good sign they probably weren't going to get murdered in their sleep.

Just an hour ago, Ikkaku was sitting in a smelly, overcrowded brig and scheming how to break out of her cuffs. All things considered, this was a step up. They pulled off their boots and sat, dreamlike, in a submarine traveling beneath the ocean, washed over by green light from the bioluminescent mushroom jar. She showed Iruka the wrench she stole and hid it under her pillow. Iruka mimed smacking a pirate over the head with it. She was glad they had each other.

At some point in the night, the rush of adrenaline ebbed and Ikkaku fell asleep. In the dark, as she dreamed, she saw a grim reaper appear noiselessly from the shadows and stand over her brother sleeping in the hammock. She yanked out her wrench, but when her eyes snapped open, searing daylight blinded her and she sat up so fast she hit her head on the Alchemist's desk.

A drawer slid open and a snowstorm of bounty posters fell over Ikkaku. Cat Burglar Nami… Devil Child Nico Robin… Pirate Empress Boa Hancock… Big Eater Jewelry Bonney… why did she have so many posters of women? Was she a murder-pervert in addition to being a normal murderer?

Ikkaku stuffed them back in the drawer and checked her limbs to make sure they were all there, then woke up her brother to do the same.

—

She was good at what she did. Working around old scrapyard men for most of her life was one thing—they mostly treated her decent and bought her drinks after a long day of work—but whenever she had opinions, she got called smart, and not in a complimentary way, which was another thing about interacting with people that never made sense to her.

But that never stopped her. She walked through the engine room pointing out everything the pirates could fix, starting off with an indifferent, "Well, I haven't really thought about it, but…" and rattled off the list with sniper-like precision. Pompom trailed after her like a stunned puppy. Self-preservation often took a backseat to proving she knew more about something than someone else did. Iruka called her a showoff, but Ikkaku preferred the term egomaniac. When she rambled about the shaft horsepower on their turbines, Pompom ducked his head and wiped his mouth. He may have been drooling.

"—where the hell does she get off, letting strangers on our ship!? I won't have them around my fuckin' engines!" A man with a scarred face and a runny nose barged into the engine room, shouting, "I would rather die! You hear me, boys? As god as my witness, I would rather shove a sword up my—"

He stopped.

"I'm Ikkaku." She rolled up the sleeves to her elbows—the boiler suit was the only thing the Alchemist had, apparently, that was clean. It was comfortable to work in, but she didn't like how well it fit. "I'm just a temp. I'll be out of your way as soon as I talk to your captain."

The engines sang, enticing and honeyed, not perfect, but well-loved, somehow familiar.

Ikkaku tapped her knuckles on the pipes like a doctor with a stethoscope. She held out her hand for a wrench and four appeared in front of her, held like knives offered handle-first. She looked up at the boys. Pompom, Scarface, Casquette, Bandana.

She chose one at random. "Can we get back to work, dickos? Is that something pirates do now and then?"

"The only woman in our crew hardly ever swears," said Pompom, playfully elbowing Casquette for his luck. "And when she does, it's usually in fruits."

Ikkaku lifted her brows in delicate astonishment. "Around you guys, it's no wonder she went clinically insane."

She missed the signal they gave each other, but they crouched down beside her. None of them were the old scrapyard men she was once resigned to deal with for the rest of her life, and they didn't joke about the chipped nail polish on Ikkaku's callused hands. The pirates scrutinized her work and, for a reason she didn't yet understand, said in unanimous approval, "Yep."

—

The Alchemist found Ikkaku in a corner of the engine room, balancing two bowls of spaghetti surprise in her hands and a pitcher of wine on her head. "It's not poisoned," she said cheerfully, "but I hope you understand why I'd rather not taste-test it. It's only water for me."

Wiping sweat from her brow, Ikkaku eyed the iced wine. "Religious?"

She lifted a hand, a gesture of mock piety. "I once belonged to the Cult of Violent Drunk Seabirds. Squawk squawk."

The Alchemist was an idiot. But the wine was sweet and clear. It was the best thing Ikkaku had tasted in a while. The Hearts didn't skimp out on the quality of their alcohol, which raised her view of them significantly.

Ikkaku waited for her to leave, but the Alchemist sat against a wall of ever-turning gears. Ikkaku would later learn that the parts with burn marks on them came from Garp the Hero's mortar shells, and also that decade-old junkyard metal from a North Blue country called Swallow Island was buried somewhere in here. The Alchemist started rearranging a few of the tools on the ground according to size. Ah, so she was going to find the sharpest one and whack Ikkaku with it and steal her eyeballs, was it?

"Is this where you torture me for information?" Ikkaku asked bluntly.

The Alchemist blinked. "About… what? Do you know anything significant?"

Ikkaku was offended. "Yes. I know how to fix a DC motor faster than anyone."

"Wow. What do you think about our mechanics?"

"Of course they're good, building a beauty like this. Lots of experience. First-rate technical skill." She paused to slurp her spaghetti. "But," she said, wiping her mouth, "I'm better." Ikkaku said this without any theatrics, as if stating a known fact. Which it was.

The Alchemist cupped her chin in her palm and smiled back.

The wall behind Ikkaku thumped. I found secret rooms, Iruka announced, rolling into view like a little pill bug.

"There you are, get over here and eat," Ikkaku said, as the Alchemist refilled her empty cup. She signed, How many?

Iruka held up five curled fingers. Was this submarine a damn palace?

"What's going on?" the Alchemist asked.

"We're wondering what the surprise in the spaghetti is," Ikkaku said. Torture dungeons?

Iruka shook his head. He lifted up his mask to take a bite, and the warped gash of his mouth made a displeased pterodactyl noise.

"The surprise is that it's bad," the Alchemist said apologetically. "Clione looked so sad when I gave him a bowl. Bepo put him to work scraping barnacles off the Polar Tang. I heard him complaining all day."

"He's not a bad guy," Ikkaku felt the need to say. "Clione looked after me and Iruka when we were on that slaver ship. Is he really going to join your crew?"

"I'm not the captain, so I can't decide." The Alchemist smiled. "But Clione seems to think so." She lit a cigarette that smelled like herbs. "Anyway. I've heard the best general store this side of Paradise is in Impala Noka. The owner once gave me an excellent knife that has been, sadly, destroyed by rudest swordsman in the world."

"That's not a legit title."

"It's super legit." The Alchemist liked to blab. As she talked, Ikkaku signed to Iruka that the Alchemist must find herself very clever by accurately guessing they were from Omiramba, and wasn't she kinda weird? We're weird too, Iruka pointed out, but it wasn't the same. The Alchemist spoke too fast, her voice tinny and stuttering, and she rambled about Bohibidu Town and Impala Noka as if Ikkaku needed a tourist's perspective on her homeland. Then she mentioned the Poneglyph beneath the lake.

Ikkaku laughed bitterly into her cup. "Of course you met Ma Reets. You guys aren't normal pirates."

"Let's commiserate together. That three-eyed hag was very mean."

Ikkaku squinted, because nothing could get past her. "…What is this? Are you trying to… bond with me?"

"Um." The Alchemist tapped her fingers together. "Ahaha—sh-should I leave?"

"She could hear what was wrong with my machines better than I could!" Ikkaku yelled, slamming her cup down. "She said there are people born with gifts who can… I don't know, innately understand what I build better than me. I always knew life was unfair, but… and she called Iruka an unlucky cripple because he wasn't born with Haki or anythin' to make his life easier, and I just—like, yeah, lady, you might be armless and three-eyed and live in a barrel, but you can't just say that. To a kid!"

"Are you sure about that?" the Alchemist said. "It takes a certain level of skill to explore our ship without getting lost."

Good thing no one needs Haki to be smart, Iruka signed like the cocky teenager that he was.

"He says thanks, he's flattered," Ikkaku said blandly.

"What she said to you is nonsensical," the Alchemist told her. "If someone told me they could understand my experiments better than me just by using some all-powerful ability, I'd say, really? Then, please, explain valence theory to me. Explain the foundation of science that I've spent a decade studying! You can't! And also, just because you know something's wrong, doesn't mean you can fix it! That's not knowledge! That's not anything admirable! What is knowledge if not something that earned and learned through hard work, you pineapple!"

"Exactly! Yeah! That's a fuckin' weird way to swear, but—yeah! Explain how to wire a circuit breaker, smartass!" Ikkaku downed another cup and thrust it towards the Alchemist.

She refilled it. "What did Ma Reets say about you?"

"Uh, probably the exact opposite of what she said to you." Ikkaku had no doubt about it.

"The opposite of having no destiny and being nothing?"

"You're shittin' me. She pulled the nothing-girl card on you, too?"

The Alchemist laughed, which was a sound that was somehow delightful to Ikkaku.

She started giggling too, and leaned forward as if they were two girls gossiping in a salon and her annoying little brother was sighing as he flipped through a magazine in boredom. She couldn't imagine how anyone would be stupid enough to say that to the most famous World Government traitor alive. "Oh, well, I feel better now. You proved her wrong, didn't you?"

"I imagine the Voice of All Things, or the truth of the universe, or whatever it is, isn't… impervious to being misinterpreted by fallible—"

"Right, 'cause you went and fucked up the world."

The Alchemist didn't smile. She sat hugging her knees like a kid. Her boiler suit was zipped up to her throat and covered her down to her ankles, but Ikkaku had seen what her bare legs looked like. She had also seen her affinity for fruit-patterned panties, and it was strange to reconcile that savage spectacle with the girl sitting in front of her. The Alchemist was younger than Ikkaku, and Ikkaku was very young to have worked in so many scrapyards in her life.

"I didn't mean it like that," Ikkaku blurted out. "The world was already fucked to begin with. Before I ran across the Surgeon on Sabaody, I was trying to find a way to Baltigo. I don't want to go to war for the revolutionaries or anything, I just… thought I'd join to meet Emporio Ivankov."

The Alchemist refreshed Ikkaku's wine cup. "Now you're here. Would you ever go back to Omiramba?"

"We left a long time ago. There's nothing left for us there." Ikkaku rolled her empty cup around her hands. It occurred to her, in a distant, foggy sort of way, that she lost count of how many cups of wine she had; meanwhile, the Alchemist was only drinking water. "I'm just a scrapper. Just want a roof over our heads and warm food and a place where we get to be ourselves. 'Cause sometimes—the less you care, the happier you are. If you keep your world small, and this is all you need to keep safe, you might be able to manage it. Everything has always been fucked."

"So you do whatever you can to keep living."

Ikkaku sniffled. "Exactly."

"I think that's brave," the Alchemist said, because not only was she a murderer, she was also a liar.

"No, you don't." Ikkaku didn't say that the Poneglyph was so beautiful it made her cry. When the seasonal floods dried up and she carried her mute baby brother to the stone, Iruka touched it and it was the first time he laughed. She didn't say that it told them to see the world and be moved by wonderful things. It had been a long time ago. "It's awful. And lonely. But we're both still breathing, so that counts for something."

The Alchemist asked Iruka if his sister needed help getting back to their room. Ikkaku waved her hand, the sting of wounded pride stronger than her inebriation. Then, outrageously, the Super Rookie condescended to gather their bowls as if she was going to wash them like a scullery maid. No, she probably had a pack of flying monkeys to do her evil bidding.

"Oh," the Alchemist added on her way out the door, smiling slightly. "For now, please stay away from the captain's cabin. You don't want to see Trafalgar Law before he puts away the cloven hooves and devil horns."

Later that night, Iruka flipped something bright and silver in his good hand. Already half-asleep, Ikkaku asked what that was, and he held the coin up to the light. For some peculiar reason, before her eyes shut, she thought he signed, Gift.

—

Ikkaku forgot about it the next day, and Iruka vanished to explore the submarine. It was harder to get him to sit still than a rabid cat, bad feet be damned. But he was excellent at weaseling out of danger, so she let him be.

She worked in the engine room, learned the names of the other mechanics that she'd never use, and ate another sad meal. Then Ikkaku meant to return to the workroom, but got completely lost. She was distracted by the voice in the pipes—not a voice, but a song. A faint song, humming in tune with the great gears and pistons moving in the heart of the ship. It was so pleasant that she followed it down a passageway that grew steadily darker, until the song faded and the only voice was the one in the captain's cabin. The door was left ajar.

"…past the bookshop… take a left, up the road… the house with the sweet lemon trees… the sweet lemons…"

"I know. I know. I'm going to get Bepo, okay?"

"No. You have to—the sweet lemons," the first voice whispered, deep and agitated and terrible. "I went inside. I couldn't find them. It's not a dream this time. I know it's not, they're—they're late. It's not a dream. I can't find them."

Ikakku caught a whiff of the stink and gagged silently. Bile and sweat.

"Everyone's home. Your parents are in their study. Lami's playing in the garden."

Ikkaku hadn't meant to inch forward and peer through the crack. She really hadn't. It just—happened, because she remembered the cold, brusque Surgeon of Death in Shakky's bar. Inside the dark cabin were two hands clutching the Alchemist's wrists and a hoarse, "Will you take me to them?"

She said very softly, "No."

A great shudder left the Surgeon's chest. The smaller shadow that was the Alchemist held him, rocking back and forth, his head resting on her shoulder and his shaking hands loosely curled over her arms. The sight was so unsettling that Ikkaku couldn't look away—two people responsible for a certain percentage of society's destruction, holding each other like lifelines. The Alchemist moved closer to him on the bed, tucking her chin against her captain's head.

Then she looked directly at Ikkaku.

Shitfuckshitfuckshit—

Ikkaku ran.

She ran, and she didn't stop until she found her brother. He was surrounded by pirates in the med bay, all of them squeezed on bed pushed together, gathered in a circle and playing cards. Iruka waved at his sister as he lost spectacularly again, and a pirate covered in blue tattoos, with a scar on his left eyebrow, instructed him on the best ways to cheat.

The abrupt change from terror to warm laughter was so shocking that Ikkaku stopped at the door, gasping for breath. There was no murderous witch flying behind her. It might've been a dream. The pirates, all of them unknown faces, were inviting her in, and the helmsman pointed at Clione—who had lost and was looking sour about it—and said, "Bet you're a panty-sniffer."

"I am not a panty-sniffer," Clione furiously denied. "I'm not," he insisted to Ikkaku.

Iruka laughed so hard he couldn't get enough air, so he took off his mask. She sat next to him and watched the pirates. None of their expressions changed. A dark-haired man with a forehead covered in scars poked Ikkaku and said, "I would like to formally apologize for the food you've been served. I've been kept from my kitchen against my will."

She shook her head. "Is there anything we should be doing?"

"Ah, yes," the chef said, shuffling the cards. "You can join us."

—

Ikkaku took diligent care in avoiding the Alchemist.

She did it with aplomb, falling on the engine room floor when she saw her coming and crawling beneath the pipes. Iruka told her about the hidden passageways he found, and Ikkaku crawled through an air vent and up a ladder into an alcove filled with plants and sleeping den den mushi. The Alchemist strolled past the open door, whistling. How the hell did she get here so fast? Ikkaku hurried through another exit that she thought would lead outside, but she appeared in a closet full of ice fishing gear and fur pelts.

Then she leaned on a wall to catch her breath, but it was a door, and it swung open and she tumbled into a room lined with neat shelves of organs preserved in jars. She nearly screamed, but clapped her hands over her mouth and ran as she heard ominous whistling behind her.

Every corner she turned, the Alchemist was already walking down the corridor. Seriously beginning to suspect witchcraft, Ikkaku squeezed herself into a sunroom with a skylight overhead and several beautifully-sculpted bonsai trees. A butterfly landed on her nose. What the hell? She heard the Alchemist skipping past, humming, "Do-re-mi-fa-so-mang-oooo…"

Eventually, she made it into the armory. A grumpy Clione was inside, cleaning swords and flintlocks. She wondered if he thought being a pirate would've been more glamorous than this. Then again, she'd been playing hide-and-seek with a crazy arsonist-murderer all morning, so Clione could have it worse.

"Panty-sniffer! Breakfast's ready!" Pompom called. Clione's new nickname had made its way around the ship, and did a second round, and a figure-eight loop for good measure.

"Stop calling me that!" The tail of Clione's tall blue hood bobbed as he flung a sword back inside a barrel. "Ikkaku-san, I can't take any more of this. We should escape."

"They've been treating me fine," she said honestly, dropping down beside him. Until the Alchemist boiled her alive, which she would. Eventually.

Clione looked at her like she was insane. "The Alchemist told me she's been torturing you!"

A wooden laugh. "Pirates, bad jokes. Sharks, blood."

"What a horrifying analogy."

Perhaps she was indeed tempting fate. She swiped her mouth and flicked her fingers.

"They let you and your brother wear the uniform." Clione glanced at the white sleeves rolled up on her elbows. "Not me, though. That doesn't make sense, does it? Since I'm a Heart pirate and you're just a hired hand. You think there wasn't one in my size?"

"That's probably it." She decided not to point out he just said he wanted to escape the Polar Tang. Ikkaku sighed, wondering when the Surgeon was going to be well enough to talk to her. Maybe never. Maybe he was already dead. Maybe the Alchemist had murdered him and sucked out his heart—

"Our chemist is sweet on the ladies." A pirate leaned against the door, pulling at his splendid moustache. Ikkaku and Clione jumped. "She's been talking for ages about having another woman in the crew. She thinks we can't hear her, but we do. She mutters very loudly."

"My brother and I aren't pirates," Ikkaku retorted. "If she has problems with your gender inequality, she should take it up with your captain."

The look on his face was pensive. "Yes, perhaps meeting you has made her too excited. But there have been many people she couldn't help. A young lass around your age—"

"Mate, no offense, but in my experience, pirates don't help people. Not without a price."

"She couldn't help that girl. She couldn't help Fire Fist." His voice lowered. "What do you think she wanted from them? What treasure did she want so much that she'd go to war, again and again?"

Her skin prickled. "…What was it?"

"I dunno. Ask her yourself."

"Oh, fuck you."

Her only response was jovial laughter.

After a delicious breakfast cooked by the chef, Ikkaku raced to a porthole to watch the shooting star. That flying rifle was pretty, and she admired it (from a safe distance) in a totally normal, not-desperately-smitten-by-inanimate-machines sort of way. The streak of light flew up into the blue sky and made for the east, where faint clouds dusted the horizon. The Alchemist had gone out for the day.

Relieved, Ikkaku made herself busy. She saw Clione skulking out of the men's cabin, but he hurried on when he saw her. She thought no more of him, or devils in dark cabins, or witches eating hearts raw.

"New girl. This you?" Scarface showed her a freshly-shined wrench. Ikkaku shook her head. He frowned, then called, "Shachi, you missed a spot!" He vanished around the power generators, and she heard a muffled thunk and a loud, "Ow! Who put a valve here?"

"I think," Pompom began seriously, squatting next to Ikkaku, "five mechanics for a ship of our size is a perfect number."

"Good thing you already have five," she said distractedly, digging through the toolboxes for a specific screwdriver bit. "Though she's a little young to be a pirate."

"…Huh?"

"The little girl. With the pigtails and the hammer?"

All the color drained from Pompom's face. He whispered, "You can see her too? It's not a fever dream?"

"Lights blinking around broken wiring. Clean tools. Singing in the pipes. Is your place haunted, bro?"

"I… have to consult an oracle about the veil between worlds." Pompom excused himself and ran out the engine room yelling, "Hai Xing!"

Ikkaku's composure broke. She couldn't believe how gullible these pirates were. Still giggling, she thought she heard tiny footsteps pattering behind her. When she turned, no one was there. Ikkaku turned back, and the bit she'd been looking for was sitting on top of the pile.

—

It was just after dawn next morning when the Alchemist returned. Iruka shook Ikkaku awake, and they both peeked out of the workroom as she strode down the deck stairs. The sky was bright and sunny, but her clothes and hair were wet like she'd been rained on. She was still wearing that oversized, nauseatingly yellow jacket.

The stoic St. Poplar merc was waiting for the Alchemist. They talked quietly, and she pointed at Ikkaku and Iruka. The XIII was harsh and black against the skin of her wrist, a reminder than she was a bringer of calamity. Their eyes met. Ikkaku's throat closed up. But all the Alchemist did was sweep back her damp curls and leave in the direction of her captain's cabin.

"C'mon, you two." The merc beckoned them out into the hallway. "You know how to handle a gun?"

"Yes, wh—oof!"

He dropped a bazooka in her arms and in a very businesslike manner herded them towards the galley. "Can the boy fight?"

"There's going to be fighting?"

"Maybe not. It's a precaution. There's a situation about to happen." The merc waved at Iruka. "We're comrades, by the way." He pulled down his bandana, and his gruesome mouth smiled at them.

"I'm finding us a way out of here," Ikkaku muttered to her brother. "This ship is haunted and the captain is half-dead. Something's happening and I don't want us to be caught in the middle of it. Where did you get that?" she snapped, because Iruka was rubbing his silver coin again.

Gift, he repeated. I want to stay.

"Iruka." She held him by the shoulders, saying in a low voice, "I know they've been nice, but has anyone ever been nice to us without trying to take advantage? Do you think a bunch of pirates—who steal hearts, by the way—are any different?"

"Ikkaku-san! What's happening?" Clione hissed, dodging in and looking just as baffled as she was.

She shrugged, then stared out the porthole. "Is that… an island?"

"Where? I don't see it?"

"Up there. In the sky."

A shadow fell over Clione, and it was not the island in the sky. It was the Surgeon of Death, who was standing behind him, a massive sword resting over one shoulder. This was not the same man Ikkaku saw shivering and sweating in his cabin. He stood without any help, and there was no sign of—anything, really, on his face. This was a grim reaper; a motherfucking, murder-making villain.

Clione started and quickly saluted. "Ah-ha! Good to finally meet you, Captain! It's an honor to join such a famous crew!"

The Surgeon looked pensive.

"I used to be the best swordsman on my island. I make a great addition to your crew as a fighter. If you need me in the vanguard, or more in the back, I'm not particular, but I am a bit flat-footed so on uneven terrain—"

"Shachi," the Surgeon said.

Clione's flattery broke off in a horrified shout as Casquette snatched off his tall blue hood. The thumps on the floor were wads of beri tumbling out. It turned he'd been stealing money, not panties. He was, in fact, a regular swindler.

—

"I have a good excuse. Don't kill me until after you've heard my explanation, alright? Please." Clione covered his face and admitted beneath a spotlight that appeared out of nowhere, "The truth is, ever since I was a young child, my life has been scarred by unimaginable tragedy—"

"I vote we eat him," the polar bear suggested.

"You monsters!" Clione screamed. "I'm prone to recklessness to fill the void of an absent father's love!"

"Shuuuut uuuup!" the Hearts roared.

"YOUR CREW NAME IS A LIE! Are your hearts moved by nothing!? Fine! I'll tell you the truth! Do you know the legend of the North Blue plague? Feast your tongues on this honest pie. I am a living descendant of the White Town, Flevance! That's right! I can see from your faces you're unimaginably shocked!"

"I'm speechless," the Surgeon said mildly.

"That's why the slavers captured me." Clione bravely held his chin up in the face of persecution. "I'm a freakin' unicorn. I'm sorry about trying to rob you, okay? But I'm more valuable to you alive than dead, folks."

Arms crossed, Ikkaku interjected, "You said you couldn't pay off your gambling debts and a Sabaody casino tossed you to the slavers."

"Ahem! There w-were a variety of reasons. We don't have to go through them all."

"If your family came from Flevance," the Surgeon said, "that means you're contagious and you've infected us all."

"Erm." Clione batted his lashes. "What's that now?"

"Diseases that appear on the skin are marks of impurity and uncleanliness," he went on quietly. "Contamination of the soul. A divine punishment."

"Bullshit, don't say that in front of the kid," Clione said. An instant later he looked uncomfortable, like he regretted doing that.

"The leper?" The Surgeon barely glanced at Iruka. "Ah. Forgot we had one."

He's faking, Iruka signed. Ikkaku, frowning, asked him which part. He thought for a moment, then made the sign for everything.

"Aren't you a doctor?" Clione added nervously. "Don't y-you realize you sound insane?"

"They burned entire houses so the sin wouldn't spread. Flevanci zombies who escaped the culling and washed up on the shores of other islands were killed on sight. They called the white patches the mark of the devil. And you're telling me I let you sleep under my roof, around my crew?"

"I," Clione stammered, "I, uh—"

"Every person you've breathed near," the Surgeon of Death said, "should I light them on fire right now?"

"Stop! Stop, damn it!" Clione cried, looking around at the other pirates. They were pressing their lips tight, as if in pain. "What the hell is wrong with you!? Are you saying you'd hurt your own crew, motherfucker!? Shut up! Let me explain! Can you give me a goddamn second to change the subject!?"

Clione looked around the galley.

Then he bolted.

"You went overboard," the Alchemist tutted.

"You're confusing me with Clione-ya," the Surgeon said coolly, and Ikkaku strained her ears for a splash. "Now, back to business—"

The door opened again. Clione walked in, looked around, and sighed in defeat, "We're all going to die, so let's just get this over with."

—

Brontide rumbled.

Rain soaked the green fields of Cat's Eye Island. A World Government battleship was sailing closer. When the Hearts hatched a plan that would lure out a woman who hated them and also had connections to a Donquixote, this wasn't who they had in mind.

Or whatever that meant.

Ikkaku pushed her hands through her hair, determinedly not processing the Alchemist telling her that the flying island was the weapon written on their country's Poneglyph. This had to be the craziest rookie pirate crew on the Grand Line—in the world, maybe. And still no one's told her why the fuck they had a talking polar bear.

"Are you alright? Would you like a cup of tea?" The Alchemist helpfully tried to help her sit down.

"Would I like a cup of—no." Ikkaku tore her arm away and checked her sleeve for traces of poison. "Poneglyphs, Ancient Weapons—I am a mechanical engineer. I deal with things that make sense. Kinematics! Metallurgy! Torque."

"Yes! Me too! Not the stuff you said, but like, the p-p-properties of all things composed of matter, I f-feel like we have a lot in common, really—"

"Do you know the lengths the World Government has gone to, to take our stupid stone? They're going to kill us!" And the pirates are going to find some way to screw us, she added to her brother. They always want a price.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in this. I th-thought we'd have more time. But…" The Alchemist paused. Then she smiled. "Watch the show."

The hair on the back of her neck rose. Ikkaku rubbed her arms, perturbed for a reason she couldn't explain. "The Surgeon is still very sick, isn't he?"

A flash of lightning turned the grey streaks in her hair white. "I promised you a miracle. He won't die until you get one."

"Why? Why not toss us overboard? We're dead fucking weight, you idiot. And you saw me. You saw me outside the door. You told us not to and I'm sorry but—I don't get why you're not—I don't get it. Do you want our kidneys as payment? Is that why you're doing this? You never had to help us."

"But you asked me for help."

"So?"

"You asked me for help," she said, "and I thought saying yes would make us friends."

The Alchemist searched her eyes, and Ikkaku looked away, realizing the price now. When she looked back, the Alchemist was walking away to join her crew outside. But she stopped in the galley doorway.

"I forgot to mention." The Alchemist slung her rifle over one shoulder and signed, Thirteen secret rooms, not five.

—

Iruka could barely hear the conversation. He leaned over the railing as far as he dared, but it was no use. The Heart Pirates and the Cipher Pol agents met on the beach, the tide lapping at their feet and a sparse, sunlit rain falling over them.

"This is dangerous," his sister said. "Go back inside."

Iruka's smiling mask emitted waves of irritation.

Ikkaku swore. "Fine. But keep your sword up."

She was still scowling as she observed the fight. Occasionally, she muttered, "Can't believe this whole time… watched us make fools of ourselves…" and made a high, harrumphing noise in the back of her throat that girls often made when they were embarrassed and angry about it.

Iruka didn't tell her who he suspected had taught the Alchemist. His sister was mostly embarrassed over something else, which was that a girl had wanted to be her friend, and that idea was so foreign to her that she'd mistaken it for homicidal loathing.

The wind carried a few words up to the Polar Tang, and Iruka heard something accusatory, like, "Rosinante saved your life, but you still chose to be a pirate," from the leader of the agents, a neatly-dressed woman swinging an axe. She yelled at the Alchemist about taking a Lettidore and a hippo away from her, and the Alchemist yelled back, "Eat my shorts!" Maybe the Hearts had stolen zoo animals from the World Government.

"Bet it's their dramatic backstory." Clione sat beside them, rope binding his hands and feet. "Lots of death and betrayal and daddy issues involved. Classic stuff." His face was black-and-blue from getting pummeled. The Hearts put him on the deck because they didn't know where else to put him.

Ikkaku gravely patted him on the shoulder.

"Kid, I've accepted my fate." Clione yawned, a gap where a tooth had been knocked out. "If the pirates don't kill me, the marines will. Either way, I'm dead. Oh, look, that Cipher Pol lady kicked Trafalgar in the head. Ha ha."

"Where?" Ikkaku said sharply. "Did the Alchemist get hurt? Do you see her? Iruka, do you see her?"

He pointed up near the slope of the coast, and his sister swore loudly and promised death upon the pirates, but very specifically the Alchemist, if they had the audacity to die. Her sudden pivot raised eyebrows, but Iruka didn't comment. Girls were just weird like that. He suggested beers and popcorn.

Ikkaku passed on the message. "You want a last meal, Clione? I can raid the kitchen."

"Sounds good." Clione was watching the blue glow of the Surgeon's Fruit, the orange streak of the fighting polar bear, the Alchemist's bombs bursting like fireworks. "You know, I don't really mind that this this will be the last thing I ever see. It's spectacular." He smiled, more likeable right now than he'd ever been. "I hope Trafalgar helps you, Ikkaku-san. Iruka, be your own man, but listen to your sister."

The siblings looked at each other. Ikkaku clutched her hair and groaned, "Damn it." She set her bazooka down and crouched beside Clione, shooting a glance at the control deck. The helmsman was watching the battle and wasn't concerned with them. "Iruka, sword."

He handed it over.

"Hey—what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Shut your hole," Ikkaku ordered, sawing at the ropes on Clione's ankles.

"Are you stupid!? They're gonna gut you!"

"You're asking me for help," she said hotly.

"No, I am not! I am very clearly telling you to not help me!"

"Stop thrashing!" Ikkaku yanked the ropes off, grinning in reckless, euphoric abandon. She felt the surface of the Poneglyph against her palm, hot sunlight glittering through water. Then she felt a weight settling over her shoulders. She looked sideways at the person whose claws were tap-tap-tapping against her throat.

"Salutations. I haven't seen you around before. You must be new."

The stranger tore open the skin beneath Ikkaku's neck. It would've been an artery if Clione hadn't thrown himself at the woman with a headbutt, and Ikkaku dropped to the deck, the front of her boiler suit staining redder than an Omiramban sunset. The boom was released by a strong gale, and it swung across the deck and slammed into the lion. Ikkaku saw Clione's blurry form yelling, "Kid, cut the ropes on my hands!"

She closed her eyes and inhaled an agonizing breath. When she opened them again, Clione was swinging wildly with a cutlass and the lion was thrown backwards, gouging her fingers into the deck and leaving deep claw marks.

"Like I said!" Clione extended the sword, the sharp edge gleaming. His blue hood fwipped behind him, his hair tousled by the wind. "I was the best swordsman on my island!"

The lion investigated her hand. "You didn't even scratch me."

"Well, my island only has thirty-nine people on it, so…"

Ikkaku struggled to stay awake as Iruka hugged her. As her vision faded to black, for some bizarre reason, she thought back to the brilliantly mustachioed man's words. There have been many people she couldn't help. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Had there been other girls the Alchemist tried to tackle into a friendship death trap filled with spikes? She thought of the Alchemist chasing after this creepy chick, skipping together hand-in-hand as they blabbed about their obsessive interests, wearing each other's clothes, making friendship bracelets and inside-jokes and blood oaths to bury bodies for each other. All the dumb, silly things girls do…

On the day she left Omiramba for good, she touched the Poneglyph and vowed that she would shape her destiny as she shaped herself.

Her vision came flooding back.

Ignoring the gaping wound on her clavicle, Ikkaku sat up. "Hey," she called, calmly nudging Iruka and Clione aside. "You're the young lass about my age Strangways Sophie tried to save, yeah?"

"'Save'?" The girl froze, her gaunt eyes rolling around in their sockets. "I don't remember being saved."

"Oh, good!" Ikkaku cheerily fired her bazooka. "Allow me to make sure she never helps you again!"

to be continued