Who has the greater courage: The man who feels no fear, or the man who shakes in his boots as he fights, standing over and over to face his nightmares til the end?
Usopp could never forget that time he first saw Luffy dying. He heard the cannons rain down fire and knew none of them might make it out alive, but in that moment, all he could focus on was him. A hole started gouging its way out of the sniper's chest, wrestling and squirming to be free of it, but not a muscle could he move. Their symbol, their leader, lay horizontal in the dust, eyes darkened and drained and completely unfocused. He was breathing, sure, but in a strained, labored pattern, one that Usopp didn't recognize or understand. There was steam, pink skin, and a boy adorned with so much red that Usopp thought Lucci must've ripped his shirt to pieces. Except.. There was too much of it, and it was everywhere. All over the rubble. The ground… in a pool.
Oh.
Oh Luffy.
Red streaked across the pirate's face, painted his spindly calves. It dressed the pavement and stained his clothes (even the usually-golden brim of his straw hat). Worst of all, it lapped at the ground in a sick slosh and swirled amidst a thick, growing wave, expanding larger and larger, until it absolutely would be too late. Usopp's stomach twisted. He itched to pick up his friend up in his arms, bandage everything, send him off gently to Chopper and take off in the Me-
Usopp had to fix it. Maybe it was too late, but he had to make all the ugly sights go away.
So why was Luffy so far from him?
Usopp screamed, because it was the only thing he could do. His voice was raw and it echoed through his whole chest (it ached), but he kept on going, voice loud. He screamed and raged against the cannon fire, against the clashing of swords and the yelling of so many men. He screamed across the chasm, through the rumbling quakes of Enies Lobby's foundation and the voices of vice-captains over intercoms. He screeched and lamented and cried.
He ordered his friend to stop looking like a dying man, to pick himself up and stop looking so pathetic (so much like Usopp). He insisted that the sky was still blue somewhere, and that he just needed to put enough life into his neck to look up and find it. To search with him.
(In his mind) he pleaded with Luffy to look up at him, to remind him what that toothy grin looked like. He begged to be a part of the crew again, a part of Luffy's life. He weeped to be seen, for what it meant to him to be a part of Luffy's crew, what he wanted to do and be.
And how it wouldn't matter to him at all, anymore, without Luffy around.
The pathetic parts were right at the tip of his tongue, even though they dared not breach him. Like most of his vulnerable thoughts, he kept them down, deep down, where they sloshed and spat and threatened to come back up in other ways.
Instead, he promised it all to the sky. Quiet, and mumbled, but it was truer than most things that came from Usopp's lips. Luffy saw it in his eyes too, he was certain. The notion that they'd all go home safely, soon. The fact that Luffy should never have to look like that again. The belief that they'd all get so much stronger, so that nothing other than their dreams would be accomplished with each battle.
He wasn't his crewmate anymore, but somehow, he felt assured of it. He knew in his bones that he would follow Luffy somehow, even if it was not on Merry or even a wooden ship. He promised himself once. Then twice (when it happened again), and three times (at the sickening third), each time more desperate, more resolute. It was an utterance he hadn't mentioned in a long time, but one he promised with such sincerity, he knew it to one day be true.
He promised to be brave.
That had been far from the last time Luffy had looked so desolate. So close to death. Every time it happened, Usopp was reminded of just how much of a liar he still was. Of just how untrue his words still rang, despite all his efforts
But that just made Usopp all the more desperate to make it happen soon. He would become a brave warrior of the sea, for him and him alone.
Usopp had seen it far too many times. Again, and again, and again. On repeat, in his head, and forever in real life. It fueled such a rage he had never felt. At Thriller Bark. Sabaody Archipelago. Thousands of feet below the sea (where Luffy had lost all that blood). At Dressrosa (where he laid there for so long, never really seeming to get up). After the battle in Wano (the fight had done something weird to his heart, and to his head). It only fueled his imagination for the many times Usopp had not seen Luffy fight. For the myriad of enemies Usopp simply had not been there for.
His thoughts ran most rampant at the notion of the fresh new scar on his chest. Big, gaping, jagged.. It marked an ironic X over the space where his captain's heart should always beat. It reminded Usopp who was their greatest treasure of all. (The one they had to protect the most). He was sure it had been splattered with blood again when it happened (when Usopp hadn't been there), matching the much larger wound on Ace.
The possibility that could happen to Luffy again someday was far too great and terrifying. A fear so immense, it had made Usopp genuinely feel ill. It was scarier than embarking on adventures. Scarier than the entourage of enemies they faced.
It was the greatest fear Usopp had ever felt.
(But he promised he'd always face that one head on).
Usopp trained. He quickly spent up those two years in the jungle, wrestling with unfamiliar plants and bugs. He forced himself to shoot farther and farther each time, expanding his abilities beyond the point of reason. It was all for him, no matter how far away he was. If his long nose could be good for anything other than lying, it would be for steadying his aim on his back. A marker, for the things he would one day see. For the distant, vacant battles he could not be fully present for.
He would have Luffy's back in his sights, because Luffy had his whole front, center, and world. Usopp would balance him on his nose if he could, if only to never lose sight of him again.
Their captain had no regard for his own safety. Usopp knew it. The whole crew did. He would throw his life away for just about anyone on a dime. Even after the training, he'd scream out in the middle of the night sometimes, hidden away in the darkness of the Sunny. Afterwards, he'd park himself on his favorite spot, staring out at the lonely sea with a look so solemn it made Usopp's chest ache.
Luffy should never look that far away.
Usopp would watch him, like a guardian in the night, from his place in the distance. He wasn't the only one, and he knew Luffy felt them there, quietly protecting his backside.
(That's all Usopp could offer without breaking into a million pieces. Without staring into dark, jaded eyes, and grieving the smile that was meant to ignite their bones.
But he'd watch, and still fall ill all the same.)
Luffy's name had been on his lips for just as many nights. Ever since Enies Lobby, Usopp would wake with shaking arms and hands outstretched, tears drowning his ability to see the precious red. He always felt far too distant from Luffy, much too far than should ever be possible.
Even though his captain was right there. Right above his little hammock. His back stretched out broad and lanky, the fabric of his shirt so tantalizingly close.
It never felt close enough.
The sniper's fingers would tremble inches from the silly boy's back, stretching ever so near. If he could only gain rubber properties to reach a little further, he could touch him. If he could just become a ghost like Brook, and pull himself out of his skin… maybe he could save his life.
But Usopp had always been weak. He had no devil powers. No crazy physical abilities. His destiny fell far behind the rest, slinging seeds and explosives in a meek attempt to reach his targets, and watch on as smoke and blood choked the air.
(For all he knew, it could have been the width of all the world's seas between them.)
But that was how it always was.
His hands would fall back upon his face to wipe his tears away, smudging gross snot and wetness into his pillow and solidifying the knot in his chest.
He was a coward (and maybe he always would be), but this fear? It was of a different kind. It stung the air he breathed and made him blind from the smoke, gross remorse sticking to him like the ash from Enies Lobby. Every time he saw his captain turn red, the promise would sting, ripping through his lungs and vowing to turn the whole world blue again.
It would be. It had to be.
He promised again and again, facing that fear with shaky hands. Again and again, his promises burned, tearing at his face, his eyes, his lungs, but somehow he focused, eyes sharp.
One day, his shaky lies would become the truth. He knew it.
He just had to believe in them.