A/N: Written as a throwback to the Alabasta arc, this story has some similarities, but it's completely original. Please enjoy.

"He did not," Shachi muttered as he leaned against the railing of the upper deck. It was a particularly warm afternoon; hot enough that he had to trade his boiler suit for a pair of breezy slacks. His captain wouldn't mind. Law was held up in his office, busy with what Shachi could only describe as work.

He wanted nothing to do with this. Instead he'd rather sit outside and enjoy the day; no idea as to when he'd see the sky again. The Polar Tang was completely stocked and the log pose was nearly set – coordinates to the next island were being debated over at this time. All that was left to do was to wait.

In any case, Shachi was content with even a little downtime – the crew had their share of hard work since the Summit War. He only wanted a moment to breathe, though he knew the calm would not continue long. The Heart Pirates were already weeks behind the other Supernovas – excluding the on hiatus Straw Hats – who by this time were in the New World, steps closer to finding the elusive One Piece.

Trafalgar Law had his reasons for staying on the Paradise side – he claimed – but no one other than himself knew what they were. It brought alarm to some of the crew. Shachi, who had known him for quite some time, was not concerned. He understood that Law was on to something and would tell the crew once the time was right. Giving surety to the crew, Shachi hoped that some of the panic would dissipate. This still didn't bring to an end to it. For instance, a certain frizzy haired woman – the crew's only female – was running off at the mouth at this very moment, venting all her worries to luckless Shachi.

He could barely understand her, even though she was talking loud enough for him to hear. All her words sounded foreign to him; the red haired man clearly wasn't following. He had to stop her before his ears began to bleed – as if they might. Tossing up his inked arms, Shachi covered her mouth and glared at her from behind his sunglasses.

"Did you not hear me? I just said that he didn't. Why in the hell would you think our captain would go and do a thing like that?"

Her brow twitched in annoyance. For some reason his hands smelled like fish; it disgusted Ikkaku. She staggered back a step, freeing her nose from the sudden assault and tried to answer him, but once she opened her painted lips, he again interrupted her.

"And speak so that I can understand you; clearly."

"Use your ears, dunderhead. I was just about to tell you before I was rudely interrupted," Ikkaku snapped. She huffed a sigh and continued. "It makes sense doesn't it? Captain is amassing bounty posters. He asked Uri to grab him a newspaper from the last island and when he gave it back, all the posters were missing. Don't you think that's a little odd? I mean, it's not that he's bored and is looking to start a hobby in collecting."

That is odd, Shachi agreed. Even so, he couldn't assume the worst just because his captain was doing something a little out of character. Like making a deal with the Marines – as she was suggesting. For all he knew, Law was merely trying to keep track of the other Supernovas by following their bounties. This was the most logical explanation he could think of anyway.

"Remember when we left Amazon Lilly? Captain told us to follow his every order; that he'd one day steal the proper throne. We cheered for him, and I have no doubt that all of us believe he'll do it too." Shachi glanced out at the open sea, captivated by its unnatural, beckoning afterglow. It was indeed a stunning sight to look on. "He has a plan … and hell I don't know if collecting bounty posters has anything to do with it, but he knows what he's doing."

Looking back at her, he asked. "And what kind of crew would we be if we started doubting him?"

Ikkaku said nothing. What was there to say? She knew that Shachi was right – it left a sour taste in her mouth admitting this. Crossing her arms beneath her chest, she pushed out her slender hip and glared at him; a coy smirk raised his lips. "Suck it up, dunderhead. Maybe try washing your hands every once in a while; you reek. No girl is going to want to be near you smelling like you do."

This brought a frown to his face. Scoffing, the insulted red head shot her the bird and pushed himself off the railing, marching towards the staircase.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Shachi mocked her beneath his breath. He didn't care how mad she was; he needed to get away from her before she ruined his otherwise peaceful day – perhaps buy a newspaper in town and drink himself stupid.

Only alive; worth almost a million in belly for her return. Samira huffed in annoyance, crumpling the poster in her tight fist. How very thoughtful, she believed – the currency was foreign to her, but Samira had no doubts about the validity of such a price. Still, the newspaper – delivered via News Coo – made it as far west as Slab town, a bizarre and lawless place on the Paradise side of the Grand Line.

The adaptable young woman had arrived at the docks earlier, received the paper, and was shocked to see her picture amongst the faces of notorious pirates. She needed to restock her supplies and leave. To where, Samira wasn't sure, but she had to keep moving.

A saloon in the middle of town caught her eye. Samira figured the bartender could provide her with some information and possibly a cold drink. She entered, not expecting much from such a foreign drink house, but was pleasantly surprised to see how clean and lively the establishment was.

Very few people were inside, eating delicious smelling foods and drinking. Calm music played in the background from a self-playing machine that Samira had never before seen. She stared in awe at it for a moment, then approached the bar.

Taking a seat, she noticed a series of wanted posters on the wall, and was horrified to see that her picture was amongst them. Samira quickly veiled her face beneath the hood of her desert cloak and waved down the bartender.

"Can I get ya anything, sweetheart?"

She seemed like a civil woman – dressed in tight clothing that left nothing to the imagination. Samira eyed her foreign yellow hair – overflowing from a tall, leather hat – and bobbed her head.

"A water please, and maybe some information." Samira sat the correct amount of currency on the table and hoped the busty woman could understand her. The language of her people was much different from the assorted dialect that she had heard while traveling the sea.

"Sure thing, but what kind of information are ya wantin' to know? We don't get many visitors 'round here, other than bounty hunters."

"Bounty hunters?" She'd never heard of them before.

The woman briefly gestured with her head to a table in the far corner of the bar. "Like them fellas over yonder. They hunt bounties and turn them into the Marines for belly. The more dangerous the pirate, the higher the bounty."

Samira nodded to show that she understood. She just assumed that the Marines hunted their own, but it made sense. This just meant that she'd have to be careful of the hunters from now on. Samira peaked over her shoulder to take a glance. Other than being armed to the teeth, the hunters looked like regular people. She frowned; nothing was ever simple.

"Are you a hunter too?"

The woman puckered a brow. At first, she didn't understand, but once Samira gestured to the posters on the wall, she knew exactly what she was asking.

"Oh no. Them are just for show," she chirped. "The owner puts them up to please the bounty hunters who pass through. No one here has the guts to lift a finger whenever one of them pirates comes into town."

I suppose that's why it's a lawless town. The pirates don't bother them, and they don't get the Marines involved.

Samira accepted her mug of water and took a long sip. She didn't want to seem like a glutton, chugging it down, but she was real thirsty. Which brought about her next question.

"Where can I buy supplies around here? And about how long will it take for the log pose to reset?"

"About a day or two," the bartender answered with a laugh. "As for supplies, the shop at the end of the street is about as good as we have. Tell old man Rider that Lula sent ya, and he should give ya a good deal; Lula is my name by the way."

Samira gently smiled – some of the people she'd met during her journey weren't so bad. Lula seemed pretty nice. She felt sort of bad for not introducing herself, but she had no option. Instead, she offered the helpful blonde an extra belly and drank down the remainder of her water. It was about time for her to depart; she'd wasted a lot of time talking to Lula, and Samira still had much to do.

Giving her thanks, she waved so long and ambled towards the saloon doors. A man with a large bird cage on his shoulders nearly backed into her as he stumbled about intoxicated, but she dodged him easily. Sadly, while her attention was diverted, someone with a newspaper in front of their face walked in and sideswiped her, knocking her onto her side – a heap of articles fell on top and around her.

"Damn … sorry. I was––

The lumbering man cut himself off as Samira glanced up at him, cursing in her native language. She could see that his cheeks were pink.

"You're real pretty," he said suddenly. A brown skinned goddess with hair the color of snow – Shachi had never seen a woman so exotic as the one staring up at him in annoyance. He snapped out of his stupor and realized that he had made a mess of his paper and hastily tried to pick it up. Bounty posters were everywhere.

"Let me get these off you. I feel like a complete assho––

This time, it was the man with the cage on his shoulders who cut him off.

"That's her … you're the girl on this picture." He waved the bounty in front of him, catching the attention of the hunters in the bar.

Samira gasped in shock. She didn't realize that her hood had fallen down, revealing her face to the patrons of the saloon. Rushing to pull it back over her face, she jumped to her feet and hurried out the doors.

Shachi was still in awe as the bounty hunters rushed out of the saloon after the strange, beautiful woman. The bartender shouted at them to pay for their food and drinks, but they were already gone. He glanced down at the floor, seeing the abandoned poster of the woman and picked it up to read it. Shoe prints decorated her frowning face, but he could still make out her golden brown skin and deep red eyes.

Her name was Amunet Samira, and she had a bounty of almost a million on her head. The only thing Shachi felt was odd about her poster was that the disclaimer read: alive only. She was no pirate, and because of him, the hunters were going to capture her and turn her into the Marines. He cursed and bounded up, racing out the swinging doors.

The streets were crowded with curious people, so it didn't take him long to figure out which way she and the hunters had went.

Hold on, pretty lady. I'll save you.

Cornered; she was cornered.

The hunters had chased Samira half way across town and into a dead end street. She couldn't return to the harbor, because the log pose hadn't set yet. Even if she managed to detach her tiny boat, she couldn't navigate without her log pose. This was all she could think to do; run and hope she could lose them. But she couldn't.

Each of the hunters surrounded her, weapons drawn. The man with the bird cage stayed at a distance from her, while the others coordinated in a language she couldn't keep up with. Trapped in a corner, Samira felt like a wild animal. She didn't know where else to go.

"Leave me alone," she hissed. Her fingers tightened around the extendable, steel baton attached to her belt. "I mean it. Turn around and go away."

A man with a sword approached her, clicking his tongue. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. The boys and I will take good care of ya. Be a good girlie and come here; make it easy for yerself."

They weren't listening. Samira let the swordsman get close enough to reach out and touch her before she pulled the pin that kept her weapon condensed. Pivoting it hard to the right, she whacked the hunter upside the head, grimacing as his teeth shattered and flew out of his mouth with a spurt of blood.

His body fell to the dirt ground, knocked completely out. She wasted no time and sprang over the fallen swordsman, swinging her baton at the closest hunter – a man with nasty scars on his face. Samira managed to strike him on the shoulder, and hit another dead center in the chest with the point before someone from behind snatched her weapon, causing her to lose her balance.

All at once the hunters seized her. She cried in anger as her baton was tore from her hands and discarded. They shoved her roughly into the giant bird cage and locked it tight, staring through the bars at her as she kicked and shook them in an attempt to free herself.

The anger in her rose, and she tried so very hard not to let it consume her, but she was desperate to be free. Collecting her bounty was the only thing the hunters cared about – they had no idea where she came from and where she'd go back to if they turned her in. Samira couldn't return home; she just couldn't.

Her tender hands began to send out chaotic energy, a red and black force that wavered like unconfined flames. It danced across her skin until her entire body was consumed. Focusing on her anger, she knew the energy would release at once in an unlimited scale. It worried her that she would hurt the hunters, but like a frightened animal caught in a corner, she had no other option but to fight.

At the peak of her gift, however – and while the hunters were stupefied by her magic – someone crept up and attacked them. Samira gasped in shock and forced the energy back inside herself, breathing deeply to calm her anger. She collapsed in exhaustion against the bars of the cage and watched the stranger beat down the hunters with kicks and fluid movements that she had never before seen. The man carrying her cage decided to abandon her on the dusty, warm ground, and ran for it. She too would have, if not for the exhaustion coursing through her body. Her strange ability took a lot out of her.

With all of the hunters defeated, Samira was left alone with her foreign savior. She was pleasantly surprised to see that he was the same man from the saloon; the red head with the blue and red hat.

Shachi dusted off his hands and directed his eyes towards the toppled bird cage. Samira was inside, watching him with uncertainty in her deep red eyes. Heat spread across his face again.

"Got to you just in time," he said.

Approaching the barred prison, he set it upright and bent down to her level. The door was sealed with a padded lock.

What to do? What to do?

He searched the ground, hoping that one of the hunters had dropped the key in haste, but he assumed the man who got away was the one who held the object he needed to release her.

"I don't suppose you have a spare, do you? No … that's okay. I'll figure something out."

Shachi laughed at his joke. He was trying to make light of the situation, but he could see how awkward he made it by the look on her scared and worn out face. Assuming that he only had one option, he stood and stared down at the lock. It looked a little rusted, so he hoped that his idea would work.

"Lean as far back as you can," he ordered. When she didn't respond, he smiled gently. "Trust me, sweetheart. I'm going to help you."

Samira was still unsure. It was his fault she had been captured in the first place, but if this was his way of making it up to her, the red eyed woman had no reason to complain. Not like she was in the position to anyway. Samira scooted as far back from the opening as she could manage and curled her legs up against her chest. A bit of curiosity filled her.

Once she was safe and out of the way, Shachi balanced himself on his left foot and spun around, booting the lock. It fell apart like he had hoped and clattered to the ground.

"Tada!"

"How did you do that?"

Samira was in awe. She pulled herself from the cage and stretched her sore limbs – her body was a little wobbly still.

"Martial arts; it's no big deal." Shachi was proud of himself. He gestured to the swordsman knocked out on the ground. "You do that?"

She bobbed her head. Martial arts. She'd never heard of it before. "I've had some training, but nothing like your style."

"Pretty cool, isn't it?"

Again she nodded. Nearly forgetting that this man saved her life, Samira extended her arm and offered it to him. "I am Samira. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for saving me."

Shachi shook her hand. "Pleasures all mine. Shachi is my name, and no need to thank me. I'd never forgive myself if I let a pretty woman like yourself get hurt because of something I brought about."

"It was an accident, but thankfully it's all over. We can get back to our responsibilities now," Samira said. She took back her hand, feeling how reluctant the man was.

"Going so soon?"

Samira replied with a nod. "I have places to go." People to be away from.

"All on your own?"

He knew that he was being nosy, but honestly he couldn't help it. This was the first time a woman had reacted to him – apart from Ikkaku – and he didn't want to say his farewells so soon.

Again, she nodded. Samira collected her fallen baton and clipped it back onto her belt.

Shachi caught a glimpse of ink around her bare waist before her cloak fell into place.

She has a tattoo … so cute.

As she faced him again, embarrassed heat spread across his face. She was gently smiling at him.

Samira moved in front of him and stood up on the tip of her toes, softly kissing his face. He was stiff as a statue, unspeaking, so she left him there.

"Farewell, my brave."

The northeast harbor where Samira docked her boat was silent upon her return. Like a ghost town in a horror story, everyone seemed to have vanished. The curious woman checked her wrist, looking at the arrows on the log pose spin uncontrollably – it made no sense. Where were all the people? Their ships were still secured to the dock, but not a soul was onboard.

Samira slowed down her pace and searched for her little boat, sensing that something was not right. Seeing it near the end of the pier – right where she left it – she moved towards it, craving a few hours of sleep after the hectic events that transpired today, but something odd caught her attention; something small was fluttering near the bow. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see it better.

A butterfly? Its wings were orange and black with ashen spots. Nothing seemed unusual about it, until Samira caught a glimpse of its dark brown hair and thick fluffy tail. She knew exactly who this was. But it can't be her.

Samira tried to slowly back away, but the unusual creature vanished. She made a quick grab for her baton, wrapping her slender fingers around it, until a high pitched voice halted her.

"That was a very clever plan," said the woman. "Stealing that log pose. I doubt those poor fishermen even realized that you had switched them."

Samira felt a light weight on her shoulder – the woman was standing on her. "I had no choice. The last island was a three day wait. I couldn't risk it; not with you on my trail."

"Have you any idea how much of a nuisance you are? We had to dirty our hands just to catch up to you."

We? Before she had time to figure out who the creature was referring to, the dock shook with a sudden impact and knocked her over. Samira rolled onto her stomach and tried to calm her unsteady heart. However a hole in the wood beneath her revealed the question from earlier she had been trying to figure out. Where were all the people?

They were beneath the surface of the water, anchored to the ocean floor.

Samira gasped in shock and bounded to her feet – all those people were massacred, because of her. She felt anger and remorse swell inside of her, but not wanting to lose control, she tried to stay calm.

"The hell was that for? You almost blew me away, dunderhead."

Samira stared at the two. The tailed woman curled up her pointed nose and struck at a short and very obese man with black hair.

"Very sorry, Miss. I did not see you there, ribbit." His large, round eyes narrowed in remorse. He reminded Samira of a frog with his round cheeks and obtrusive makeup. "But have you already forgotten what our mission is? The Boss would be very upset if we failed because you forgot."

Again, she struck at him. However, her punches seemed to be ineffective, as the frog man stood and took them with no indication that he had been harmed.

"I know what the mission is. Don't lecture me," she hissed. Fluttering her wings in annoyance, she landed on his shoulder and gave Samira a spiteful look. "Our mission is to capture the brat, and she wont be escaping us this time."

Samira reached for her baton and pulled the pin, holding its extended form in front of herself. This made the short woman snicker in laughter, but she ignored it.

"I don't want to hurt anyone else. Can't you understand that? I just want to be good."

The frog man croaked. "Why do a silly thing like that? You are a weapon, ribbit. Just look at the people you have already hurt, and you have not even raised a finger."

She knew what he meant without even having to look; the bodies they hid beneath the water. He was right though; she got them killed. If she had not tied her ship at this dock, they would have not been in danger. It hurt more than she could handle, being held responsible for such a tragedy.

A familiar sensation came to life in side of her, and before she could pacify it, the chaos peeked and released itself. It came in waves and destroyed the dock, knocking Samira back. Her baton fell into the water with a loud plop.

Feeling worn down and ready to collapse, she urged herself to get up and run. The two hunters seemed too busy to notice as she ran up the hill towards the cliff side. Samira wasn't sure where to go, but she didn't stop, not even when a sharp pain tore through her right leg.

The world around her seemed to spin, instantly merging colors that made her feel dizzy and sick. She stumbled around aimlessly until her feet went numb and she collapsed. Except, her body did not meet the ground like she expected. It fell straight down; straight off the cliff side towards the water.

The last thing she remembered before she passed out was the sound of a familiar voice calling out her name.