Oof, oof. Sorry for the lateness of this chapter but I really wanted to get this island done in one and it ended up being the longest chapter yet. (Over 50k and I had estimated 35k-) sorry for the sad things in this chapter :/ only like, one thing in that mess was planned, but things just kept moving and so there's more now.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be opposed to the idea of letting the fight run its course. There was more than enough reason for Ace to kick the shit out of someone and, honestly, she probably wouldn't care if there wasn't a good reason. So long as she wasn't likely to get caught up in it, of course. Unfortunately, as much as she could probably sit this one out, she also didn't want Ace to run them all to an early death.
Well, earlier than what it should be. He still had three years left at least.
But, at this rate, with how much she didn't know she was changing, she didn't want his reckless ass getting himself killed on her watch.
"Wait, Ace-"
He doesn't stop. Already turned on his heel and running off without a serious thought to things like-
Uh, that thing called consequences? Yes, those exist.
Please start thinking about them Ace!
Unfortunately, he's too busy practicing the time-honored tradition of ignoring the one person able to keep their head on their shoulders.
Quinn grits her teeth.
"Captain."
Ooh, she needs to remember that tone because it has him screeching to a halt. Even as pissed, antsy, and impatient as he looked he still had the sense and presence of mind to listen if it sounded serious. And what better way to remind him than to acknowledge his position?
Or, maybe, it had more to do with the fact that it was already rare of her to bring attention to his title, and it had him more surprised than anything. The seriousness only partly registered. Enough to keep him, at the very least, listening to see where she'd be going with it.
(Or maybe he just liked the sound of it. There was that.)
It didn't really matter.
Because Quinn was too busy scowling at him, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Have you forgotten yesterday-?" She gestures to her face. "There's a reason I have these bruises. And it wasn't so we could have the Marines jumping on us in the name of probably incestuous nobility. Because, as much as we are pirates, we're going to need a lot more than three people if we think we can handle one of this world's highest forces being pissed off at us. Even if they are, admittedly, also the most pathetic."
"It's just one guy, they won't care-"
"Of course they will," she snaps, "you aren't naïve. Don't act like it."
He's more taken aback than insulted (even if it's mildly still clear on his face that he's feeling that too) and before he can open his big mouth she quickly continues with her train of thought, completely steamrolling whatever it was he was going to say.
She knows that he knows what the World Nobles are like- and what they're capable of. The Grey Terminal Fire, the "death" of Sabo, the complete slaughter of poor people just for the effort of making a good impression… He's aware of that. But something's screaming at Quinn that he hasn't quite grasped that Goa Kingdom was not an outlier or an exception-
Every island had the potential for the same brutality on a whim. Goa Kingdom was only more likely. (It's unfortunate that people don't forget the trauma. But they could forget the anger. And that led to too many rash decisions and endless problems when it rose again- 'cause rage was a fuel that only burned for so long and often petered out before it could get to the finish line.) And it's looking like Ace is needing a reminder of what could very well happen if they let anger push them forward.
Especially with freaking World Nobles. Whom she'd rather not ever meet.
Quinn wasn't about to take a chance when he already had a target they wouldn't be able to handle just waiting to be painted on his back if someone had loose lips.
"It's not the pissant they'll care about. It's the fact that some no-name, pirate scum-" There's a twitch from both Ace and Kat but it does help to get her point across. "-from the East Blue dared to insult their precious spices or get in the way of its production. Frankly, I'm surprised this place hasn't been overhauled into a major slaving ground, because I didn't think they'd have the decency to not put everyone in chains."
Briefly, she runs a hand through her hair and mutters, "Then again, maybe they just believe the East Blue is too beneath them. Being considered the weakest sea. Probably didn't want to put the money into it, especially since it would also require an endorsement into the Marines because their presence is already so minimal here… Not only that but it's probably an attempt at not pissing off Dragon even more than he already is, since Sengoku would know that he's from this sea and…" She trails off and notices the blank look on Ace's face and the wide eyed, stricken looks on both Kat and Spices.
She's not sure whether it's because she mentioned slavery in this area or because of what she said about Dragon, suddenly caught by the fact that she should not know any of that.
Quinn grimaces. Bad, bad, bad. She should've said that in her head or not at all. "As I was saying," time to act like she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary, "I wouldn't be surprised if one of the factory's invocations is to monitor the people and kill or enslave anyone who says something bad about the World Nobles. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a crime punishable by death if you did it literally anywhere. And what's worse than actively destroying something that's considered theirs? That factory is a proven fire hazard- just look at the people you've been bumping into, they definitely don't follow the safety requirements of working with flammable materials -it'll go up like a light if you use your fire in the wrong place. And, as much as I would love to see it burn, unless we have a sure-fire way of keeping our faces off the residential arson-list we'd just be painting a massive target on our back."
Wow. She's feeling her lungs wheeze a little in protest as she managed to somehow get all that out in one breath while still maintaining her seriousness.
"One that, at the moment, we will not be able to handle."
Begrudgingly, it does get Ace to turn back around, but he lets out a low huff that sounds oddly close to a tiger getting ready to strike. "So what do you suggest we do then? Run with our tail between our legs?" Yeah, definitely not happy. She'd go so far as to describe it as pissy even.
Well, not like she can't understand why.
Whatever he expects from her, he doesn't get. Because Quinn barely hides the fact that she's rolling her eyes at him-
("Hey!")
-and turns to Spice, arms crossing over her chest. "Spice. Revenge or running." Maybe she should be giving him a second to come to terms with the fact that his family may or may not be… dead. But she has a feeling that someone will get impatient if they don't get this show on the road. "I'm not going to have us bail you out of making an actual decision here. They're your family and your responsibility."
Something about that last word has him twitching out of his stupor.
"H-Hey, Quinn, shouldn't we give him a second. I-I mean, his family is-"
"No one is confirmed dead. There are no bodies. Not only that but…" She's flying by the seat of her pants at the moment and if it wasn't for her carefully crafted blank face they would all be able to see her internally panicking. Legitimately just screaming at herself for even saying anything because Quinn really-
Really-
Doesn't know what she's doing.
Aah, crime scene investigation shows, don't fail me now!
(She's pretty sure Ace can smell bullshit a mile away, so it's a good thing that she's ready to pull through on this no matter what. Or… is also prepared to straight up backtrack if needs be.)
"The blood. If someone actually died, there would be a corpse." Oh, there's plenty of things just waiting to pop up and contradict her statement, but, well, so long as she makes it make sense, it'll be alright, right? Quinn walks past Spice- careful not to spare a glance his way because she's certain he'll be able to spot her nerves if he gets even the slightest chance- and hops over the broken pieces of wood, vaguely aware of the eyes burning on her back. "It's also smeared on the ground. Like someone dragged them away." Which, really, could be indicative of multiple things but- well.
She's looking for excuses.
And the more she searches the more she finds and she starts to feel a pool of confidence bolstering her words settling in. Really, the burst of credence had her suddenly thinking straight, and now she could tell there was something incredibly obvious about the whole scene.
"This window is also broken. Outwards. Everything else is broken inwards and what's been destroyed is on top of the broken glass from the window."
Ace and Spice are looking at her with utterly flabbergasted and uncomprehending expressions. Kat is the one that gapes as understanding quickly dawns on him. It takes everything she has in her to not puff up in pride as Kat struggles to untie his tongue and puts his head to work. Following her thought process. "The attacker was outside when he destroyed the house." Kehehe- yes, yes! The fellow resident "smart-one" was there to back her up. "M-Meaning…"
He trails off as she steps back over to them and she quickly picks up. "Meaning that, unless whoever did this walked into the house just to punch this one window out and then walked back outside to wreck the place," she's purposely making it sound ridiculous to further convince them of her story, which she's starting to believe with every bit of information that has her figuring out where to go next, "then the people inside, most likely, escaped through this window sometime around the beginning of the attack."
"So- then, they're alive!"
And- it would be cruel to not say otherwise, as sure as she is that she's right, she doesn't exactly want to start being cruel right now -not by giving a false hope. Not even with as much as she believes her own theory. "Can't confirm or deny it. But it's looking more and more plausible."
"...So we don't know anything." Ace is looking miffed. "We're back at square one."
"No, Ace. We're…" She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "We know that they had the presence of mind to try to escape and could be, I don't know, hiding. Right now. That's a big step up from being presumed dead, I would say." Quinn just wants them to think logically for a bit because she'd rather not jump to conclusions. "It does help Spice make an informed decision. Because they could-"
"What does it matter?"
Quinn shuts her mouth.
Just as the man in question interrupts.
And that… It would normally sound like a question asked out of hopelessness. On paper, it certainly did. A defeatist attitude brought on by grief and a lack of hope. Of simply giving up on it all.
(Because, sometimes, that was easier. She would know.)
It was anything but.
"Pretty words won't help." She bristles. "It doesn't remove the fact that, alive or dead, my family was attacked. That one of those factory trio did this." His eyes spark with rage and the contempt dripping from his voice is as sharp as his blade. "Whether by order or not, they've taken it too far this time… They're too much of a risk to be allowed to stay alive."
"My pretty words will remind you that anything you provoke from the factory will likely fall back on you in the long run."
It's the closest thing to a scowl that he's willing to get to.
"I don't have time for what-ifs."
"Well, I do. Luck is full of them," she flashes a golden hand at him, it disappears like a flicker, "and it doesn't often go my way."
Ace saves the conversation by recognizing what she's getting at but is slightly too irked by Spice's dismissal to say, "We need to figure out a plan."
Her hum confirms it. "At the very least, an order of operations."
"That's easy."
Well, he's got everyone's attention now.
"There's only three things that need to happen."
Then, by all means, enlighten.
-0-
"I'm not going to apologize."
"I didn't say you had to."
"...But you're implying that I should."
"I'm not responsible for what I imply."
"You- You agree with me, though, right? That the dog- That Pepper needs to stop." Her cheeks feel clammy with tears still struggling to dry. And she's too afraid of accidentally jostling her arm to move to wipe them off. "You do, don't you?"
If she does, Cinnamon doesn't say it out loud.
Sometimes she hated that her sister rarely committed to a proper answer.
"Just because I want the same end goal doesn't mean I agree with the way you went about it."
She licks her lips because they feel hopelessly dry. Like her entire body has become dehydrated. With all the tears she's shed over the last few days, maybe she has. "...Well, you weren't going to do anything about it…"
Cinnamon sighs. "Because she's six." But Salt knows that's just an excuse. "And she could very well grow out of it within a year."
"Or she could grow out of it now."
"If we force her."
"Right!"
"And then we tell her, what?" Salt leans away from the raised brow and the irritated look she gets. "Congratulations. The dog you've been using for comfort isn't actually as comforting as you first thought. You've been convinced of a lie for the majority of your life now. And your mother- whom you love and trust- lied to you with her dying breath and she's gone now. Forever." Salt flushes red hot. "Yeah, real helpful to our already shitty situation."
"T-That's n-not-"
"You know Salt, sometimes it's better to let people figure things out for themselves. You don't have to… try and fix them like you do with everything else. People don't come with manuals."
She snaps her mouth shut.
And, even though she's in an intense amount of pain, somehow those words hurt even more than her arm does.
(Which is saying something because Cinnamon touches her shoulder and sends her into painful shrieking. "Yeah, that's gonna need a lot of ice. I'll go make a pack and… see if we have any leftover pain killers."
They won't.
But Cinnamon didn't think it would hurt to check, even if she knew she wouldn't find anything. It helped her feel like she might be able to provide more than just… words of comfort.
Which never seemed to go very far these days.)
Salt curls against the wall and threads her uninjured arm under her knees, pulling them close enough that she could rest her chin between them. The intense aching was starting to subside under the strain of her own inner turmoil. And, when Cinnamon comes back in, beaded hair pulled up by a scrunchy, pretending not to notice the hard look on her sister's face- even as she presses the cloth-made ice pack to her shoulder- she barely twitches against the cold.
"How's it feeling?"
"...Not worse."
It was hard to get worse than this. She thinks.
Cinnamon just huffs, "Why did you go off to Starving?"
"...I…" she droops, the memory of the snail attempting to connect to something, anything, playing over and over in her mind, "...I don't even know anymore…"
And neither really know what to say after that.
There didn't seem to be much in the air between them, other than disappointment.
If Cinnamon listened, she could hear Pepper's crying in the other room. Not, admittedly, an unfamiliar sound but- but she didn't know what to do.
(It's hard playing the mother when she can't bring herself to accept the position. She was just… so tired. So unprepared. She wasn't prepared to fill such a role and now she doesn't know if she ever would even want to be.)
She sighed.
"Look… I'm not saying I'm right or anything like that. Maybe I'm completely wrong." Situations like these- arguing over the ethicacy- they could run in circles for days if they let themselves. And she was too tired to let the thoughts swirl. Much, much too tired.
Cinnamon somehow finds it somewhere within herself to stand and not immediately walk out of the room. It was growing harder and harder by the day to watch the sorrow festering over her sisters like some-sort of tumor. Always coming back and ending in disaster.
"But I don't think you're right either."
She rubs her temples. Soothed slightly by the cold temperature the ice had left her fingertips. She could feel the headache coming on from a mile away and, wow, it was not going to be an easy one. "At the very least, if we really, really have to tell her-" Because, while it's been eating at her, it seems like it's starting to devour Salt. "-we should go about it in a sensitive and calm manner. Not… over-emotional anger. It's really- Auh!"
The yelp is torn from her lips more out of surprise than anything else.
"Cin?"
It's with a surprising amount of reflexes that she manages to catch the cabinet that comes toppling forward unexpectedly.
"I got it. I got it."
The sound of shattering dishware on the inside is not… exactly music to their ears.
Salt winces. But it's not the worst thing. She'd rather not have her sister crushed by splintering wood- Speaking of which, Cinnamon looks a little rattled, trying to ease the cabinet back into place. "Geez. A leg must've broken or something…"
It made her heart just about jump out of her chest but all Salt can respond with is an irritated huff. Already going back to ignoring the world except…
Except she couldn't help a small thought.
"Honestly, it's a good thing that your back. We're all terrible at fixin' things and-"
She's not listening.
Because Salt had looked into all their cabinets and appliances when one of them broke a year ago and had personally fixed anything that was loose, broken, or just… didn't look right. And that cabinet was easily one of the more trustworthy ones. It's why it was heavier and held dishes that were much more liable to break.
It shouldn't have fallen. Not as a result of a broken leg at least. But the only thing she could think of that might've caused it to fall was-
There's a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Like something bad was going to happen.
"...it's like something forced it to fall over…"
"Huh?"
Salt's arm chose that moment to ache terribly. "Shit-!" And, as if on cue with the throbbing reminder, the stack of plates that had built up in the sink, as a result of feeding Ace, fell over in a crashing heap. Scattering across the ground. They both winced. "The… hell?"
Cinnamon pushed the cabinet back up. Or, at least, she attempted to. Struggling against the doors which wanted nothing more than to come open, the broken contents pushing up against them and, almost as soon as she tried to step away, whatever it was that knocked it over came back with a vengeance. And Cin, well, she just barely managed to keep the doors from opening up behind her, everything threatening to come crashing out. All at once, in a pile of broken shards.
"Is it a frickin' earthquake- what the hell-?!"
If only they would be so lucky.
(Like a line of dominos, the problems just kept falling right after the other, didn't they?)
Because Pepper lets out a startling scream from the other room and it's half a second later that the dog starts barking. "T-There was someone in the w-window-!" Her voice cracked as it reached such a high pitched octave it was almost hard to tell what she was saying, words shaky and wobbly with tears. "It w-was- It was one of the ba- bad men-!" The barking increases and suddenly Pepper screams again as the building seems to shake.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-
"Which one?!"
She comes stumbling out of the room.
It's a question of what they're dealing with and it has Salt's heart beating against her rib cage. As if it was trying to jump out of her body and escape. And, if she thought she was all out of adrenaline for the day then she was sorely mistaken, because every tiny bit of fear that she'd thought she'd become tired of feeling comes back in full force- hitting her all at once and leaving her trembling. Fingers moist and arm shaking, sweaty with the heat of her sling and-
Salt bites down on the inside of her cheek, dropping the ice pack. For some reason, it felt as if she could hardly hold onto it anymore. The ice inside turning slick and melting through the cloth, the shaking of her hands turning it into a squishy pack that was just getting harder and harder to hold onto.
If it was the Mime again… S-She didn't know what to do.
The thought of impossibly long arms and legs, hands ready to crush and snap and break and-
The thought of silence… it was just- too much.
And she-
"Salt, you're hyperventilating, calm down."
Cinnamon's voice cuts through like a knife. The incessant barking and the ringing in her head all becomes dulled in response; it's still filled with tension and a low, pained hiss, tinged by her own fear, but it's enough to have her sucking in a deep breath. The light headed feeling disappearing in waves of discomfort. She was… She was about to make herself pass out.
"I…" She swallows, lump in her throat. "Sorry."
Pepper's whimpering and wailing helps to draw her out of her head. And Salt watches as her younger sister pulls the dog by the collar in an effort to pull her back. It strikes Salt then that this is the first time she's ever seen the old biddy angry and- and it was- it was a shocking sight.
Snarling, froth and drool dripped from jaws pulled taut, the floor wet with puddles from her mouth; striations of tense muscles on the dogs snout contorted the normally calm and serene features that their dog often had. The image of growling, hair standing on end, and Pepper struggling to drag the dog away- all her strength went to just to keep herself on the ground, much less actually succeed in controlling the dog- the only contact it even had with the floor were with it's back legs. And, even then, claws dug and pushed and seemingly waited to propel itself forward to attack.
Pepper sobs, though now Salt thinks it has something to do with the strain of her hands on the dog's collar than just because of the looming threat. "I-It's the big one! You know, the big-big one-!"
And it's not exactly relief that fills her. No, of course not, but Salt's fear changes to a different sort.
One that's… not quite lessened in intensity but much more manageable.
"If it's that one…" Cinnamon grimaces as Salt feels her teeth break the skin of her inner cheek, the taste of copper blooming in her mouth. "Then is he- is he shaking the house-?!"
Escher had always been too big and too strong. An unfortunate package all rolled into one.
There comes a roar from outside and Pepper shrieks as the walls shake and dust lifts into the air.
And, well, if that doesn't confirm Cinnamon's theory, she didn't know what else would. Other than going outside and staring him in the face as he does it.
"Pep-" Cin went to wave her over but grunted when the cabinet on her back faltered dangerously to the side, getting awfully close to tipping over onto Salt's head. She groans and finally shoves the cabinet the other way, giving up on holding it up; it falls with a loud crash and they both hold back a wince, everything inside of it… was definitely broken now. "Pep-" Cinnamon just shook her head and moved on. "Over here." Yanking the dog by the collar to pull them back and out of Pepper's hands. "Calm down." They fall into a low crouch at that, thankfully not trying to run off and attack like they assumed she would, what with its borderline apocalyptic look; still a growling and snarling mess though.
Pepper whines. "I-I-I don-don't know what's go-going on-"
"Sh- sh- it's okay, we're okay. We can figure this out."
It doesn't help much but Pepper's sobs start to dissolve into hiccups and she gained that deep, stuttering sucking in of breath that happened when people tried desperately to force themselves to stop crying.
Numbly, Salt can't help but wonder if her tears are born of fear or leftovers as a result of Salt's own participation in stringing her emotions along-
"C'mon, it's okay. Trust me." Cinnamon attempts to soothe. "We'll be okay."
Times like these always seemed to remind her that Cinnamon was the only one of them with a firm head on her shoulders. Able to push past fear and emotions with a calm attitude that was often more infuriating than helpful.
(Spice was prone to lashing out, Pepper to crying, Salt to rage, but Cinnamon was-)
"We just have to get out of here without him noticing. Then we'll all be okay-"
It's necessary to remember that things rarely went Salt's way. And, subsequently, also rarely went her sisters' way.
(Huh. Maybe there's a reason she was so quick to feel her face heat and her blood curdle.)
It's with a resounding boom- one that's quickly followed by the intense sound of creaking wood as a trembling shake racked through the house- as if it was shivering in fear itself- that a board gives way from the ceiling and catches Cinnamon on the temple. The blood itself is relatively minor but the force of the blow has her collapsing back, feet catching on one another, and Salt yelping at the sight of her elder sister busting the back of her head open against the wall behind her. Leaving her feeling sick at the image of blood smearing as she slumps. Not unconscious, thankfully, but left blurry eyed and completely out of it.
For once, there is no rage.
Instead, all Salt wants to do is curl up and cry.
She would've preferred the anger. Almost. "I'm so- so- sorry- this is all m-my fault- I'm so- sorry-!" The sobs have her voice breaking and her throat feeling like it'd gone through a blender. But she can't really help it. So overcome, "I'm s-s-" It becomes too hard to form words properly anymore.
So she gags.
It's not a good reaction, she knows. But she doesn't know what to do-!
Pepper's hiccups become muted and she wheezes out thick coughs. "C-C-Cin- Cin- A-Are you-?!"
And they don't know… quite what happens next.
It's hard to see. What with tears blurring their vision and the house falling apart around them. But Cinnamon- groaning, unable to really control her limbs at the moment- managed to whimper out a small plea for help and, as if in understanding, the dog whipped around and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. Dragging her across the floor and back over towards them. A good thing too, as the weaker walls of the home and the other cabinets and items in the room all began to come crashing down as another great shake shivered throughout the house. Leaving even more splintering wood amongst the scattered porcelain.
There's a smashing of a window. And Salt thinks that it was Cinnamon that had managed to break it, showering them with a small amount of glass, the broken noise blending in with all the rest of the destruction.
"Go, go, go-"
The dog, seeing the opening, continued to drag Cinnamon by the collar- helping to pull her out through the window until she was half laid out on its back. Trudging along, even as her own paws were pierced by the broken glass on the ground outside the window, and watching as Salt jumped out, cradling a half thrashing Pepper to her chest. Her shoes hitting the glass uncomfortably and- she winced. She could feel them pierce her soles and get frighteningly and uncomfortably close to completely cutting through the rubber.
"B-But- all our things- that's our home-!"
"Ignore it!" Salt hissed to Pepper, trying to keep the barefooted girl above and away from the glass covered ground. It's made all the more hard with only one arm of use and, as she shifted, Salt nearly screamed out in pain as her damaged shoulder got jostled. A furious order of "Be Quiet!" already jumping to her lips.
And- And-
Escher roars.
It's something unintelligible, which is fair, given who they're dealing with. They didn't expect to understand what had him so pissed off.
(Though something tells Cinnamon that she's going to have to have a word or two with her brother the next time she sees him.)
"HOW'S THAT-" He howls. "-I'LL DESTROY IT ALL! SPICE!"
(Yes, definitely a word.)
They try not to think about the building collapsing behind them. Or, well, Salt and Cin try not to. Pepper rubs at her eyes and whimpers, unable to bear the sight of wood breaking and dust billowing up into the air from the remains. Their family home of memories… all gone. So quickly, so simply, so easily.
And Pepper can only force her lips into a thin, almost painful line at the order of: "Quiet…!"
They can't see him as they scurry away. The dust lingers in the air, just high enough that all they can see is his large shadow. And they hope beyond all hope, desperately, that the destruction of their home is enough to keep him distracted. That the wall they'd been leaning against, which somehow still remains- though only just barely- is enough to keep them hidden from view. Just enough to keep them blocked from sight.
Unfortunate, then, that Escher is a large, large man.
Because all it takes to see them is for him to straighten up to his full height.
"THERE YOU ARE!"
Oh, the arm gets jostled again, Salt is beginning to sense a pattern here, but the scream is more from terror than anything else.
"Where." He picks up a beam of wood that was once their ceiling. "Do you." Raises it over his head. "Think you're going?!" And flings it their way.
"Move! This way!"
They run.
Despite the pain and the glass. And they're lucky that it's Escher and not the Mime because, if it was the Mime, they'd already be dead. Instead, the beam is launched over their heads, just narrowly missing their bent forms, and- He's a lumbering figure, dragged down by his own weight, slow and not at all able to keep up with them as they tear through the streets. Not completely aware of where they were going.
Just desperate to get away.
"Hurry!"
At least it causes such a commotion that the streets, which had presumably started to empty around the same time that Escher began attacking their house, were overrun, suddenly, with people scrambling to get out of the way. Allowing the sisters to get swept into the crowd unnoticed. "C'mon, c'mon, in here- in here-" Cinnamon moaned as they pulled into a small, shadowed space cut between two buildings. So tiny that they barely fit. "We-" She huffed. "We can hide…"
"Yeah…" Salt wasn't so convinced but Cinnamon didn't sound or look so good. Breath coming out in ragged huffs and skin turning a bit green around her eyes. "Hey, are you okay-?" She'll take that as a solid 'no'. Cut off by the sound of her hurling in the corner.
Yeah, she was definitely not doing too good.
"D-Did we lose him at least…?"
"Sh. Don't know yet."
It's a question on all of their minds and Salt puts Pepper down to chance a glance around the corner of the wall. Tense and… not completely relieved when she spots no sign of Escher having followed them. Cowed by fear, the minutes tick by slowly and in silence. Well, almost. Cinnamon continued to breath heavily, eyes squeezing shut to the point of tears.
Pepper settled down by her side. "...you okay…?"
"...hurts…"
"...oh."
She bites her lip.
Like she'd actually hoped to hear something different.
Salt glances back. The streets are empty and she can't hear any lumbering footfalls or roaring shouts in the search of them. "...If it helps, I don't see anything. I think we lost him."
"It does. Actually." She winces. "Help, I mean."
And Cinnamon groans, wrapping an arm around Pep's shoulders.
She leaned into the grip. Hugging as tightly as she dared. "Momma helped us, you know." Salt clenches her teeth to keep herself from snapping at her. Managing to alternatively fix the dog with a firm glare that… didn't really carry any heat. The old lady panting and huffing, tongue hanging out, and bloodied paws printed against the ground in small swipes of the disconcerting color. "She- She helped you out!"
"I know, I know. I was there and everything."
Salt keeps her mouth shut. It's not as much of a struggle as it usually is.
The dog meets her gaze head on and the impromptu stare down steals her attention. The minutes tick by. Cinnamon's breath evens out as she pets Pepper's hair. And their hammering hearts calm with each passing second that there's no sign of Escher.
Pepper shifts in Cinnamon's hold. "Do you…"
She stops. They look at her, Salt breaking the staring contest, to urge her to continue.
Her cheeks look pale.
"Do you think Spice will find our house first and t-think that we're…?"
She doesn't manage to finish the sentence.
Distracted by the blood.
And they feel queasy at the thought. Cin sighs out through her nose. "No, no," the thought was a bothersome one, one that they didn't want to think about, because, even if it was untrue and they were all okay, they didn't want to imagine how… hurt Spice would be. If he thought… for even just a second. "He'll trust in us to take care of ourselves. Besides…! Those pirates went after him. They'll probably keep him distracted. We'll just have to find him before he finds the house."
It's said with the implication that they should stand and go and get them but none of them can bring themselves to lift themselves off the ground.
The silence and the- admittedly as temporary as it was- safety… was too addictive.
That said, they weren't even sure that Cinnamon would be able to stand. Even sitting, her legs were trembling and almost limp. The hit to the head looked worse and worse by the second, especially considering that, when Salt dared to lean forward and look, her pupils didn't look… right. It was a concussion if she ever saw one.
Salt can't help but huff a laugh. It sounds pained to even her own ears. "I… I never thought I'd make a habit of trusting pirates to help out." She shakes her head. "The world's gone crazy, hasn't it?"
"At least they have a pretty cute one…"
She rolls her eyes at Cin. "Yeah. Uh-huh. The scariest one of them."
"Scary? How is she scary-?"
Momma growls.
And they tense, falling silent.
There's nothing but, if anything, Momma's growling only turns more visceral.
"Where is he-?"
"Do you see him-?!"
"He's huge, how could I miss him-?!"
A large shadow falls over their hidey-hole.
Rigid, they look up.
And succinctly summarize their situation: "Shit."
Escher is a terror above them. Grasping onto the roofs of each of the houses they lie between, ugly mug turned into something like a sneer but they knew to be a grin. Beady eyes lighting up. Like a child finding the last item in a scavenger hunt. Voice blubbering, in an almost song-like tone, "Found you!"
Safe to say that they scream.
Unfortunate, then, that that's all they really get to do, not even getting the opportunity to run before fat fingers were leaning down to wrap around Cinnamon's leg. Ripping her from the ground. And, already disoriented, she had absolutely no chance to defend herself.
"L-Let go, damn it!" That said, she wasn't about to make it easy for him.
It's Escher's turn to scream.
"Momma-!"
She's grabbed onto his leg, bitten down so hard that blood is already bubbling and dripping from his ankle. The low growling is followed by tearing and the dog shaking her head, the leg still firmly caught in her maw. "Grr-!" Salt tears Pepper away. She can barely hold her back. And tries to ignore the way her face pales as Cin is let go, crashing down to the ground. The walls of their alley crumble as Escher stumbles and whips his leg and-
"No!"
Momma is sent rolling across the concrete.
The resulting yip coming out like hiccups and a bumbling Escher stomps his foot. Too enraged to really feel the pain. "Stupid dog, stupid dog! Does it have rabies-?!"
She gets back up. Growling.
"GO 'WAY!"
And gets battered to the side with a backhand.
The high pitched sound of pained whines filled their ears and they froze. It sounds… horrible. Low whimpering from someone in pain and-
Salt feels sick. Even as the dog- Momma! -manages to stand back up despite it all, the ferocious look remains strong. Escher hardly seems bothered. Glaring down on the canine, heavy breathing and boorish.
"St-Stop-" Salt can hardly speak.
Doesn't know whether she's trying to get Momma to stand down or Escher to go away.
The knot in her throat grows thick.
(All she's doing is holding Pepper back. Unable to move. Her legs and arms shake and- oh -Cin is unconscious, isn't she? That's why she's not getting back up. She hit her head on the way down and she's… she's so close… Salt could- Salt could grab her- She could run-)
A yip.
(-but then Momma would be all alone and it'd be like- like finally, finally abandoning her- but that's not- really what she wanted-)
Escher brought his foot down on a leg- turning it to pained howling that- that grates and- she's still biting- she's still fighting- She's protecting them.
(-she doesn't know what to do- doesn't know what to choose- doesn't know what will complete the puzzle correctly- what will make all the pieces fall together into just the right spot where everything could solve itself- and so Salt doesn't make the decision-)
(She just… stands there. Watching.)
(Like always.)
Pepper slapped her hands over her ears and shrieked. "Stop it! Stop it!"
(Maybe it was Salt that was really the indecisive one.)
"Stop hurting-"
A high pitched ringing. Like steel hitting one another.
"-Momma?!"
Pepper's desperate note turns to confusion part way through.
Escher is gone. And, if Cona was there, she would find the sudden disappearance oddly reminiscent.
"Don't worry, dog…" They blink, teary eyed, as red hair, scarred cheeks and still singing claws- (it sounds like bells, almost, twinkling and echoing)- as a boy falls into a low crouch beside Momma. "It's okay now. You were protecting your pups, weren't you?"
The low whine is answer enough.
"I'm not very strong, I don't think. Not compared to you."
How can he say that- when he's the one that sent Escher flying?!
"But I'm supposed to protect your family now. So you can rest." Kat pats the dog on the cheek, feels her sigh into the touch with a groan. Relaxing despite herself. "I've been meaning to try out some new moves… too bad there's too little water to bring out the big ones. Means that I'll be even weaker fighting you than normal."
He turns and sneers at where Escher tumbles out.
"Then again- I don't think I'll need it. Not against a guy like this."
He snarls.
"What the hell- who are you- what are you doing-"
It's weird.
Watching tears lift from their own faces to circle Katsura's wrists, Salt and Pepper gape. "Nothing personal, but my Captain put his trust in me!" He smiles. The sneer disappears with it. And pride and determination practically swell in him. "And I don't want to disappoint!"
He attacks.
Escher howls as claws sink into the arm that he threw up to defend, water streaking past to pierce him even deeper than would normally be possible. "What makes you think you can- Aargh?!"
"Step one-" Kat jumps back with a grimace, ribs aching as he lands but he dodges the punch aimed for his side so he'll count that as a win. "Someone needs to search for Spice's family and protect them from any and all threats!"
…
…
"Easier said than done." Quinn is humming as Ace holds up three fingers, each one freshly explained. Three steps, all they really needed, but each one seemed to be more important than the next. "But yeah, that does seem to cover all our bases."
Dimly, Kat realized that- yes. Quinn was hopelessly correct about the potential of pissing off the World Nobles. He didn't know from experience but he remembered how people had reacted when Queen Otohime had left Fishman Island with the Celestial Dragons. As if she was already dead the very moment she left their sight.
The people would mourn as they tried to maintain hope that the Queen would return soon.
And a too young to completely understand Kat would remember a scarlet sun that was used to cover a mark that sent a shiver down his spine, even without really knowing what it was or what it meant.
He's distracted by Ace fixing Quinn with a crooked grin.
Practically preening, if Kat was being honest. The almost-outright fond look was enough that he couldn't help but smile himself, getting something like praise from Quinn would do that to you. (Or maybe he's just biased. But even something that could hardly be construed as a compliment from her was something to feel good about. It just always felt like she meant it.)
(It felt like winning a prize from a competition that they didn't realize they were even participating in.)
Quinn snorts. "Oh, don't give me that look. We don't even have the means of accomplishing it yet."
"Don't we?" Ace snipes back. Or, actually, that was too harsh. He's still preening after all, grin spread wide. Busy jumping foot to foot, showing off just how antsy he was getting standing around. Not at all diminished but Quinn's raised brow. "We can just split up and take care of it all at once. That way, everyone's happy."
"Happy is… not the word I would use for it." Comes Quinn's mutter. Something that only he hears. And Kat snickers.
Before shaking his head.
The steps seem easy enough. But-
He bites his lip. For once not forcing himself to scar his tongue with misplaced teeth.
Though he does cut his lip.
(He would later realize that he was copying Quinn's habit, one that she'd been actively in the midst of as well, having also been chewing on her lip in that moment. Too deep in her own thoughts to notice him splitting his lip on his own sharp, shark teeth in a very similar- but worse- fashion.)
Unable to help but wonder where he would end up in all of it.
All of it was… so important and he… He wasn't sure if he'd be capable.
"Kat's on step one."
He jerks.
"Wh-What-?" In shock. "B-But that's- That's not- I'm not a-" Ace doesn't even seem to notice the look on his face or, if he does, he just doesn't care. Not at all bothered by his stuttering and quick attempts at denial. "I'm not a good pick for that!"
"Of course you are."
He opens his mouth and it comes out in a surprised wheeze.
And he wants to say- no, no. That's not right. Definitely not. B-Because…
Because his ribs still ache and his breaths were still coming out in slight huffs at the end, even as he ignored it or brushed it off or shifted so he wasn't putting weight on the worst of the injury. "I- I don't think…" He swallows. "...I'm not a good choice. Look what happened to Salt the last time I tried to protect her…" It sounds hollow to his own ears.
Quinn winces and looks like she wants to say something but Ace beats her to it. "But you had her back then, even though you didn't have to. Not technically." This time- just do it different, he seems to try to be saying. Just do better. And it- really can't be that simple, can it?
"But…"
When they had first arrived at the Twin Isle's, it had been raining and so he hadn't been worried about the lack of water. It'd been more than easy enough to pull from the outside and use it to put out the worst of Ace's flames. So it wouldn't burn them. And it had all been okay. But now he had no such luxury and- it'd shown how weak he was without the ocean and the sky to back him up- this far in-land… if he got into a serious fight with someone, it would be like the Mime all over again.
Maybe even exactly like the Mime.
They only assumed that he was still stuck on Starving after all.
"...I'll just-" He thinks better of crossing his arms over his chest so he can hug himself. It would only make the strain worse. But, now, he didn't know what to do with his hands. Left awkward. Chewing his lip. "-I don't know- Someone else would be better, wouldn't they?"
Ace doesn't seem to think so. Giving him a look, brow raised. As if flabbergasted that he'd even suggest otherwise. "No? You're in-charge of watching our backs, you know?" He opens his mouth, takes a breath, and then doesn't say anything. Snapping it shut. "You can do that for Spice's family too."
"But shouldn't Spice-"
"No."
It's not Ace this time that speaks.
Spice looks resolute.
"If my family is truly fine, then I trust Cin to keep them alive. You searching for them versus me… it won't matter." He looks down at him and Kat doesn't know whether to shrink or puff up. "So long as they get found. You can take care of it."
Strange… that's not- that's not what they expected of him. Even Ace looked surprised, like he'd been waiting for an argument to brew and had already prepared himself to give into it.
"If you are anywhere close to being as strong as your Captain, then it'll be fine."
Kat nods. It's weak. But his heart swells in his chest as he looks to Ace, who just smiles with more confidence in him than Kat had ever felt in his life. "O-Okay then. I can do it." And Kat didn't care how much his ribs hurt or how nervous he was. He didn't want to see that look turn to disappointment. Not if he could help it.
…
…
There's something to be said about running.
Because, if going numb to the world around her was a skill, Quinn had it down to an artform.
It's probably got more to do with the simplicity of it rather than the act itself. Because her hammering heart is easing, the nerves not so bundled as tightly as they once were, and the tension is not… disappearing but definitely starting to seep out of her in waves.
She could smack herself right now.
Because… why.
Why would she have ever given this up? Memories of running track in high school, messing around the streets of her neighborhood, playing around with (attempting) to race the subway- she had never actually managed to catch back up with the same car as it'd reached its next destination but, hell, if she hadn't been close a couple times- aren't as few and far between as she expected. The exhilaration of just- doing something. Something that didn't involve her mind wandering and instead just moving and looking ahead and having control over herself.
And she had… stopped. For a reason so unimportant that she could hardly even recall it anymore. At least, not a solid, singular one.
(Too tired, so tired, it felt like a weight pressing down on her eyelids, and she just couldn't bring herself to even lift herself up. Not even to check the messages that blew up her phone. The shame-guilty-bad feelings blooming in her stomach until it left nausea and an endless black hole as all she thought about was how much of a… disappointment she was.)
Quinn didn't like to feel stupid but damn if she didn't feel like it right now.
There's just… something almost majestic about seeing her surroundings blur just enough that she couldn't linger her gaze anywhere but ahead of her, really. Something akin to watching the world go by from the seat of a car. The act of actually moving however just made it all the more intrinsic. And well-
Personal.
God was she stupid not to engage in this more.
"This is the place then, huh…?"
The walls of the factory were cold and almost metal-like in appearance. Boards of wood so sanded down and painted gray that it made it hard to even tell if it was actually wood or not. It's a weird difference compared to the outside. Bordering on creepy, if she was being honest, as there were incredibly few lights up and about, shadows seemingly cast every which way. Making it hard on her eyes as she squints, coming to a stop, and watches the people in the factory look up at her arrival. A quick glare has them going back to their work, deciding better on possibly approaching her-
She's not that scary, is she? She doesn't think so. But recent events seem to be trying to tell her otherwise.
-and Quinn skittered down the hallways without another look. Not letting them linger on the sight of her for longer than a few seconds. At the very least the lack of proper lighting matched with her dark skin and hair would make giving a proper description harder if they went to authorities.
The halls grow smaller the deeper she explores.
Quinn paused. Cursed. And pulled up her shirt to cover her nose as she wanders.
It's a spice factory alright.
She- well, she expected there to be… smells. But she hadn't expected it to be quite so pungent. It was bad to the point that she could hardly pick out the difference between the assaulting scents; it was just one big cloud of aroma hitting her all at once.
She sneezed, eyes watering. The burning in her nose bothersome.
It was almost like her pollen allergies all over again.
"Burns…" she grimaced, "the hell… gotta get some windows in this place…"
Very poor design on their part.
The dust from the spices clung to the air and seemed to make breathing itself a chore. It was terrible.
You know, for a factory creating and producing spice's, she expected there to be more gardens and plants. Instead, it was all heavy machinery and unmaintained oil and shifting piles of ground dust- And wow. One glance around the room and there were already way too many potential fire hazards popping up in her face. Ugh, it was a wonder how Ace hadn't already set everything ablaze. Hopefully the luck mark she'd left him with would provide him with a… less flammable area in the direction that Ace and Spice took.
Quin dunked a hand into one of the rows of slow moving spice. The shitty conveyor belt that was clearly… well, if this was a factory endorsed by Dragons she was sure it was top of the line.
Top of the line machinery in this world was apparently very shit and also very… unsafe looking.
She suspiciously glanced at it as it creaked.
Not all that surprised.
(They probably didn't see the need in improving technology once they found something that worked. And, well, if they usually had slaves working under them then there… wouldn't be much of an incentive to at least make the technology safer.)
"Is this… pepper…?" She glared at the dark material in the palm of her hand, not daring to sniff when it would probably only make her end up sneezing. "That is… ridiculously fine." The scooped up dust painted the pads of her finger a light grey almost, and she let it sort itself out on her palm, fingers opening to let the dust fall between them. It was finer than sand, easily. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if it evaporated the moment it came in contact with any sort of liquid.
That's what they called top quality?
"Tch, frickin' weird."
Maybe it was because she was used to the cheapest store bought brand she could find and the old bottles shoved into the back of the cupboard- left to clump together into an odd looking mess- but the thought of sprinkling the pepper-dust on her food wasn't as appealing as it was apparently supposed to be.
It was weird. Like they were trying to get rid of any possible impurities that may have otherwise been found.
And, being so thorough in its stages of productions, they were left with a product that would've been virtually nonexistent if not for the sheer quantity. Every other belt of varying collar seemed to be under the same sort of treatment and she wondered if Spice preferred the finely ground ingredients himself- Ace said he was a chef, didn't he?
Quinn shook her hand out and moved on.
There was a job to do after all. No matter how… unqualified she felt for it.
She sucked in a deep breath, a mistake given the horrible burning running up her nose, and sighed.
Yeah. Really, really unqualified.
Quinn let the factory blur together around her as she searched for the direction she needed. The vague directions she'd gotten from Spice becoming more convoluted the more she couldn't see where she was going. It was just so dark that- Well.
You get the idea. She couldn't see much.
"Where is it-? Where is it-?"
Just as her search was starting to irritate her and make the knot in her stomach grow with her own impatience- she briefly entertained the thought of just asking but hell no, she'd have to, like, kill them or something if they saw her face, maybe, probably, it didn't matter because she wasn't going to actually ask- when finally, finally, she found what she was supposed to be looking for.
The stairs that headed down.
Who's bright idea was it to put them on the opposite side of the building to the ones that headed up?
Then again, if it wasn't hidden away, that would defeat the entire purpose, wouldn't it? The factory was, apparently, more architecturally close to a tower, the only difference being that the majority of it- the places where they hid the sight of dirty workers and such- was built underground. On the off chance that a World Noble visited. Wouldn't want them to bear witness to their poor, dirty serfs.
(This world was disgusting. But not unfamiliar in its horrors. It was just more… upfront about it. Which, given how the government here compared to her own, she wasn't sure whether to be even more sickened or not by the thought.
And she imagined the only reason it wasn't worse was more due to the separation between the many islands making total control harder, rather than them… actively going out of their way to normalize their misdemeanors like her world did.)
Quinn tried not to think about how much of a bitch it was going to be climbing back up the stairs once all this was said and done.
If possible, it seemed to grow darker and darker the farther she went down.
And quieter.
Much, much quieter.
Quinn frowned.
She'd maybe gone down two floors by this point and seen small glimpses of people working with grinding machines and bottling and other such things but none of them were exactly being quiet. She could still vaguely hear them all through the ceiling- floor?- it was just-
Tension. She felt.
Tense.
And she only had a second to realize that the feeling was oddly familiar before, so caught up in her own thoughts, that she didn't notice the hand that reached out towards her. As if from shadows.
Didn't see the way it slowly stretched, inch by inch, into impossible lengths before it managed to wrap around her ankle and send her toppling down the steps with a shriek. There was only so much she could do besides throwing her arms up to instinctively protect her head before she was sent rolling, a pile of flailing limbs and grunts-
She shakes.
Maybe in fear, maybe in anticipation, maybe something else too, but- Um. Really. She's more taken aback by the almost hysterical laugh that bubbles out of her because-
"Of course! Of-fucking-course, ooh," she giggles and it feels choked to even her own ears, "ooh, kehehe, I should've known. I really- really should have."
He tilts his head.
Ever silent.
"It really is just my luck, you know? It really is." Quinn laughs. "So this is it then, this is how I mess everything up for everyone?"
She thinks that he's trying to figure out what she's getting at. She doesn't know. The Mime is a hard figure to read after all.
"I wish I could give up, that would be easier. And- And I'm so used to disappointing people, it's not like it would even be out of character-"
She grunts as she pushes herself up from where she collapsed against the bottom steps of the third floor beneath the surface.
"-but for some stupid, insane reason, I just can't bring myself to not… at least… try. This time."
She's on a knee. Awkward on the steps. But pulls the most intimidating glare she can manage out of her repertoire, if she's scary- She's not going to squander it. If quick glares get people scared, she wants her enemies- she wants the Mime- to be terrified.
(She hopes that its not just her imagination that he flinches back. Even if it's just for a moment.)
"Step two."
She grins. Hands shaking. It's not… quite her instruction. She's paraphrasing. But it gets the idea across just fine.
"Leave no witnesses."
…
...
"What?"
Quinn had bristled as Ace turned to look to her expectantly, holding up a second finger that she almost wanted to lean down and bite off just for how much it offended her. None the wiser to her innermost desires, he simply continued to shoot her that cheeky, winning grin that, really, none of them could stand to say no to
Not that he knew that, of course.
She wanted to punch him in the face. But managed to settle for her eye simply twitching.
"It makes the most sense! You did it before, technically."
"That was mostly Cona, if I'm being honest."
But, damn it, if he wasn't right. She did make the most sense.
Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair. Trying to keep the obvious nervousness off her face. It was starting to sound a bit too similar to last time and she really didn't want to take a knee between her shoulder blades or rub her wrists raw trying to get out of ropes again.
"C'mon, Quinn," Ace chirps, blatantly unaware of her inner turmoil, "you're in-charge of keeping the Nobles or anyone from hearing about us. It goes against… being a pirate to hide the things we're gonna do but-"
Oh, yes. She could tell how much he struggled with this. Looking more than a little sour by the second.
"-you're right. At the moment. There's only four of us-"
"-three." Spice corrects. Unhelpfully trying to retract himself.
"-so getting into a fight with the World right now wouldn't be too good. We'd be completely unprepared."
And, since Quinn can see how much it pains him to admit- there's an odd gleam in his eyes, like he's remembering something, and she thinks it has more than a little something to do with being tied to a tree and having to be forcibly held back, it was… surprising that Quinn didn't have to attempt to do the same. Sad, then, that he had to have to learn this lesson already- so she raised her hands up in a sign of… reassurance, maybe. "Imagine… one thousand Garps hunting you down." Okay, so she's shit at it. The mental image is enough to have him suitably horrified. She almost wants to laugh. But it does succeed at helping him swallow his pride a bit.
(Considering that pride was in part what killed him, putting a hole in his chest, she thinks he could stand to learn to swallow it down more. Even if… the pride had more to do with a mark on his back than something of his own.)
"I… It's not like I'm bothered by a bounty or anything." Somewhat of a lie. "But there's a difference between being a target and being targeted."
And Ace should at least understand that.
"...So you'll do it?"
She bites her lip.
She would. Definitely. But that didn't mean she wasn't still worried about it. "I… Are you sure?" She practically deflates. "Literally all three of you are stronger than me."
"So? I trust you to take care of it!"
Well. Shit.
She can't really even think about refusing now, can she?
"Right, right." Her lip bleeds. And she sucks it in with a deep breath before letting it go with a pop. A slow smirk sliding over her face. "Such misplaced trust in me, how shall I ruin this for us all?"
He snorts. "Dramatic."
And all she can bring herself to do is chuckle.
All the while her insides tumbled together with nausea. Yeah. She couldn't wait to fuck this up for everybody.
…
...
Tiberius knew he was not exactly… well, he wasn't exactly being smart right now.
He cursed as fingers fumbled.
He'd nearly been caught once or twice already which, maybe, wouldn't have been so bad. He's sure that more than a few people in the factory wanted Kigu out of the picture just as much as he did but he wasn't taking any chances.
And what if, afterwards, once everything was said and done, they turned him over to the Marines?
To try and take away his position. The one he rightfully deserved.
Tiberius fumbled again with the charges. Relieved that, at the very least, they weren't all that delicate. Made to go off only once fire hit the fuse.
It was his dream after all- to expand and become well known, to be the leader of his own company, of his own herbs and spices-
He was the one that had brought Hunting Chang to the attention of the World Nobles after all. When Saint Jalmack came to the East Blue to visit the pearly streets of Goa Kingdom- that smelled of antiseptic and overused disinfectant and cleaning acids- he had seen his chance to bring attention to his- his own skills.
To not ride off the coat tail of- of Spice's mother for once.
It had been a harrowing event, especially once he heard wind that Jalmack had blown up a ship for sailing out of his way, and so he knew he had to step up his game. Nerves about frayed, he'd started rumors of being able to create plentiful, delicious spices in the hopes that it would catch their attention because Dragons were known to be led by less than obvious whims on even the best of days.
It did.
Nearly got himself enslaved, which was a terrifying ordeal, but a few choice words had Jalmack delighted by the thought of an entire island- producing spices for him and him alone, well, until the other Celestial Dragons caught wind and made a deal with him to get their hands on some of their own.
(Like real dragons were rumored to keep hoards of their treasure trove, Jalmack had wanted to make the others jealous by the bounty he'd scored in a sea so pathetic that it was hardly even a name in their vernacular. It worked. And last Tiberius heard Jalmack's use of his spices were making the other Dragons froth at the mouth in frustration, tearing through other seas to find something better. But Tiberius is nothing if not skilled in his trade.)
The only problem was the appointed Marine that they ordered to watch over production.
Kigu took the order too seriously.
And stole his factory.
He fumbled again with the setup. Sucking in on his bottom lip, there'd be a lot of damages, maybe even the whole collection of upper floors would get destroyed, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Set if off once most people are out, it'll take a bit and it'll probably piss Jalmack off but I can rebuild…" Point the blame at someone else, maybe even Spice, and put himself in a position to fix all the problems of the Celestial Dragons and he should be good to go.
Well, assuming there wasn't anything that he didn't account for.
The thought brings up the memory of the threatening woman and the boy that he was… pretty sure was a fishman of some kind that had been helping Salt around earlier. Pirates. It gets a shiver going up his spine. Not the sort of folk he wanted to involve himself with-
"Hey, do you know where that Kigu guy is?"
Shit.
It took all his years of practice and a decidedly scary amount of skill to not flinch away at the touch and, even then, he was only semi-successful. The hand dropping onto his shoulder had his spirit just about jumping out of his skin.
He swallows. Mouth suddenly feeling very dry.
He doesn't turn around. Not completely. "I, uh, I would think that he's still in his office at this time." And, damn, he can't keep the shaky lilt out of his voice as he peaks out of the corner of his eye to see who had gotten the jump on him and-
"Spice?! I- I thought you left!"
Said man is a couple feet away, looking less than impressed, with arms crossed over his chest. "Oh. It's you again."
Tiberius openly gapes.
The one hanging off his shoulder looks curious. Much more so than he has any right to be. "You know him, Spice?"
"Aa. Peripherally."
Tiberius opens his mouth, Spice tilts his head, "I can say, honestly, he's much worse up close." He shuts his mouth. Lips thinning and pursed, the glare he shoots him is more tired and fed up and anything. It receives a snort. One that's clearly meant to say 'pathetic'.
Dragons, he's insufferable.
"Okay?" The man still hanging off his shoulder still didn't let go but did raise a brow and looked more confused than anything. Wow. His… His fingers were getting kinda tight there. "And that means…?"
Spice gives a slight hum. A nonsensical note that's contemplative in a way that Tiberius decides he doesn't like.
He grimaces. "Sorry, but… who are you?" He doesn't recognize him and he knows everyone on the island, so that could only really mean that- He went rigid, already pale face dropping a few more shades because the only newcomers he'd heard about were- "P-P-Pirate-?!"
Cool grey eyes- the only relief that came from having them completely focus in on him was to note that they weren't glaring, not like that pirate woman from earlier had been doing- slide back to his face and an… almost delighted look pops up. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Well, it can't be because you look like one." Spice snarked and yeah, just- wow, Tiberius really wants to just sit this one out. Take a breather. Unfortunate, then, that Spice decides to take note of what he's been doing. "...Those are explosives." He's virtually unreadable.
Tiberius sweats.
"N-No-"
"And you put them in a factory. Filled to the brim with people."
Oh, the hand on his shoulder is starting to grow more and more painful.
"T-There's less people after hours-!"
Spice's voice is all but dead. "There is a night-shift."
Yeah, extremely painful.
At least the pirates not glaring at him- though that side-eye he's getting is certainly powerful enough on its own.
"It- I have a good reason! It's worth it-"
The hand squeezes. "Worth it?!" The pirates pissed. "You were going to… burn all these people." He barely keeps himself from snapping at him, 'what of it?!' He was a pirate after all, he should know plenty more about ransacking and burning than he did.
"I- I want Kigu gone as much as you do!"
"Oh," Spice sounds like he's half a second away from letting out a dark chuckle, "then you won't mind joining us in confronting him, will you?"
He's being dragged away before he can so much as protest the obvious rhetoric.
The pirate hisses in his ears as he pulls him away. A wicked grin that looks caught between excitement, anticipation, with a hint of adrenaline has him wincing. "Step three. Take down the leader…"
Spice smirks. "And the rest shall follow suit."
Tiberius can feel the sweat clinging to his brow in fear as they grow closer to the darkened office of his nightmares.
…
…
"Step three is rather self-explanatory, isn't it?"
"A bit."
Spice doesn't look like he cares and instead starts to, in a very exaggerated fashion, tap his foot. Quinn wants to snort at him but- well, given the situation, that feels a bit rude at the moment. The impatience is warranted. Besides, this step doesn't have much fanfare and assurance. Doesn't seem to need it. Arrogant, almost, if they're being honest; though it's not as if they don't have the skills to back it up. So leaning towards more… confidence. Maybe.
Quinn is definitely leery of the twin dark smirks that slide over Ace and Spice's face. Kat is just- well, she can practically feel admiration wafting off of him.
"Then that's that, isn't it?"
Yes. Quinn is much more satisfied than she was a few minutes ago and is impossibly impressed by the fact that Ace paused long enough to give actual orders. As simple as they admittedly were.
None of them mention that the lines on Spice's face soften and then subsequently harden in a determination after a moment of mulling it all over. There is a relief about him that's almost… palpable. Even though he declined the objective that they assumed he would prefer- step one; finding and protecting his family. Unaware that the only reason he didn't want to be a part of that one was because he was afraid of what he'd find. If he found anything.
He doesn't really think he could stand the bad answer right now.
So he pushes back the inevitable, grips his sword hilt, and tugs Ace and Quinn in the direction of the factory.
…
…
Kat knows that he…
He doesn't have the strongest grasp on himself. Not exactly, at least.
There's strength and there's training there- that's obvious to anyone who looks at him- but it's also infinitely clear just how… self-taught he is. He knows it. People that knew what to look for could figure it out. And every time he sees how Ace just holds himself, he can see this, and, with the introduction of Spice, it's just become more and more obvious.
(Didn't Ace say something about his grandfather being a Marine and something about an angry bandit lady with a club? It'd been brought up at night, when he was curled up against Quinn's leg and using it as an impromptu pillow, and she was listening to him with an attention that Kat just didn't have in him.)
Hell, even Quinn holds herself more confidently than he does and he's never seen her fight. Though, that might be because he's never seen her attacked either- and the Mime didn't count. Because she hadn't responded. Just froze in place and, well, Kat can't even fault her for that. After seeing what happened to him and Salt when they'd tried to do the same.
No, in comparison, Kat is used to fumbling around and figuring out things on his own- testing, experimentation, trial and error… a lot of it was just running around like a chicken with it's head cut off and trying to find out what worked best without really knowing where to go. It was a slow process, but one that worked. It just- It just didn't really allow for him to gain any confidence as he capitalized on his skills because he had no frame of reference for them.
Now, don't get him wrong, Kat knows he's strong. He beat the Beast after all. Easily a head above the rest. And it would be a lie to say that he didn't think he was good at what he did.
(He was just sure there were plenty better.)
Fishman Karate, for example, was a skill that eluded him. No matter how hard he tried to grasp at it, without proper instruction, he couldn't wrap his mind around it- at least, not for very long. It just didn't click with him. Fishman Jujitsu on the other hand was much more forthcoming in that respect. An odd statement to admit and actually be true. As it stands, Jujitsu is a much rarer and less practiced mastery. It was common knowledge that Fishman Jujitsu was infinitely harder than Fishman Karate. It took more concentration. More finesse. And, up until Ace and Quinn came stumbling upon his island, Kat had barely been able to keep his own control over the subject with his years of practice.
With the claws, they helped, sure, but it was like adding a crutch to a problem that he was already desperate to solve- made worse by the fact that Kat was already prone to losing his head in the midst of a fight.
"Woah!"
Yeah, sometimes almost literally too.
He felt a small grunt escape him as he ducked low under a swipe to the head, feeling the air get picked up from the force of the swing and causing some of his hair to fall into his eyes. Kat grumbled, blowing a puff of breath up to get rid of it and failing horribly. If anything he just made it worse. "Ugh, stop it-" He groaned, distracted. Knowing that he really should be paying more attention to the man in front of him but, even as he finally manages to get the hair out of his face, he can't help but let his eyes linger on the quartet that was Spice's family. They'd managed to skirt around the fight despite the obvious danger and were now hovering over the whimpering form that was their dog-
Kat bit his tongue, chewing until the taste of copper was thick in his mouth.
Already here and he'd already failed.
His heart lurches at the sight and he tries to curb the sick feeling in his stomach with excuses.
It doesn't work.
If only he'd gotten here a few minutes earlier. If only he had been fast enough and been able to get the dog out of danger. If only he had been able to do something. To jump in. To protect. To follow orders and not let everyone down. But he didn't, and he hadn't, and he wasn't, and Kat couldn't help but feel pathetic because he'd already proved to himself that he wasn't good enough to-
The thought gets cut off as he dodges a hit, ribs aching in protest, and he twists his claws in a strike that was meant to throw the water he'd brought with him into a single, slashing blade.
It falls short.
Kat nearly cries.
Which, honestly, might've been a good thing because, hey-! He'd have more water to use then.
(Okay, he's just being dramatic, but he does flush in embarrassment because, wow, that was lame.)
"Damn it."
Yeah, his concentration was subpar at best at the moment.
"Get back here, little freak!"
See: The problem with Fishman Karate is that it's very… self-explanatory as a concept. Which unfortunately made it incredibly hard to learn without someone there to take you through the motions. Through the proper channels. Learning it on your own- that was a nearly impossible endeavor in and of itself.
Based around the idea of shoving- pushing- forcing the water molecules within the air and within other people to bend to the will of the user; to follow the order and techniques taught; to keep the hold ironclad and not allow for struggle. The art was rigid and unmoving. It had to be. Because, when the ocean shoved back, you couldn't let it push you down and drown you. The art revolved around brute force, strength, and a confidence born from an unmoving will and experience of an incredibly, incredibly determined person.
...Huh. Maybe that's why he'd never managed to quite get a handle on it.
It's not for everyone.
Jujitsu isn't either but it was-
Much more malleable; agreeable. Much more his style.
Because it was about flowing within the ocean itself and being one with it. Melting into something else- something greater- and for a lot of people… that was a tough thing to understand. Hard to get behind, much less comprehend. But, then again, Kat had never been particularly attached to his sense of self.
(The power of dissociation, people. Easily among his employ.)
Melting away and drifting into becoming something that wasn't him, if only for a little while, was much easier than it probably should be. Sometimes he shifted into it more often than he probably should but Kat really didn't mind being something else for a little while. If he had minded it, even a little, he would have probably… most likely realized that that's…. More than a little concerning. For multiple reasons.
Instead, Kat simply coughed and cursed, "damn, damn," as his ribs throbbed painfully and the accompanying aches made it difficult to catch his breath and even harder to calm down to the point where he could attempt to make the connection that usually came to him so easily. Ugh, but his head was just too muddled, wasn't it? "Oh, all these flips and shit are so not worth it!" He could feel his body screaming in protest and all he seemed to be doing was exacerbating his injuries from earlier-
At this rate, he'd have more than just a few cracked ribs.
He bit his tongue and snapped back into focus, a shudder running up his spine.
The problem with Jujitsu, and the one that he used his claws to help bypass on better days, was essentially step one in the process. Creating an attachment with the water. Establishing a focal point. Grounding a piece of oneself. It was why learning Fishman Karate was often first. Jujitsu was… so much easier a concept to grasp if you had a frame of reference for the very step he struggled with and, unfortunately, since Kat was very obviously self-taught, he was essentially building his foundation from scratch every single time.
But that's not anything new. It's pre-established that Kat had trouble concentrating on a singular thing at a time.
And, right now, considering the fact that his attention is completely split, not only by the stifling pain in his side but also by his encroaching worry; glancing between Escher and the sisters every few seconds. Not wanting to take his eyes off either. Absolutely destroying any semblance of concentration he was trying to keep because- er, ouch. He feels his heart ache as he catches sight of their dog. The poor thing was curled on the ground, a high pitched whine escaping it every few seconds as the girls tried to figure out how to move it without hurting it.
They weren't… quite in the way. Not yet.
Though, if Kat wasn't careful then they'd probably get hit accidentally and-
He catches Salt's eye.
"Get your head in the game!"
And ducks.
"Shi- Sorry!" Rolling to the side to avoid the foot that comes down where he had just been standing. "Ooh, don't call me out like this!" Feeling his face flush and burn. To the point where he doesn't think it'll be going away any time soon, even if it did technically help in snapping him to attention.
Kat shakes his head, scraping together as much focus as he could manage with a single, deep breath and-
Slow.
In.
Down.
And out.
He slashes a claw upwards.
Ribbons of water mix with blood and stain his collection pink as he swerves out of the way of the roaring beast of a man and is narrowly missed by the furious retaliation that comes from the attack. It's a short lived triumph because the hit cracks the ground and flings up dust and dirt and pebbles in a puff of cloud that completely obscures his vision. And sends him into a coughing fit as he grits his teeth and shutters, one eye slamming shut while the other is squinted and watery against the grain, "Was that- hurk, really necessary?" The resulting groan is bitten back as he spits out a glob of dirt that somehow got flung into his mouth, taking a deep breath to try and focus so he could take another shot at the guy.
Slow.
In.
Down.
And o-
"Hrk!"
That's a rock in his throat. He chokes.
Which is unfortunate timing, really. Because Escher comes charging out of the dust cloud like a bull- ironically, what with Kat's bright red hair, the comparison probably fits the situation more than it should- and he's utterly unprepared as he's swept completely off his feet as a thick shoulder digs into his gut and- There's an audible noise that sounds suspiciously like a 'yoink!' and Kat distantly realizes that he's airborne. Mostly because there's half a second where his stomach drops and another half where the ground seems way, way too close to his face before he just barely manages to throw his hands up protectively and… Well, he's saved himself from a broken nose but maybe not a concussion as he makes rough contact with the floor and is sent rolling in the ensuing momentum.
"Snrk-! Ow, ow, ow…!" Kat is pretty sure that his nose should not be only a few centimeters from making contact with his knee and yet- Here he was. "Oh, c'mon!" Sent in a pile of limbs, somersaulting across the ground. He actually is pretty frickin' sure that his body went skipping like a rock on water there because he definitely feels himself catch air more than once.
Still.
He picks himself back up. Not even stumbling over his own feet as he does so. More weary than anything.
"Little freak," Escher sneers, "why don't you just stay down?"
Aw, how sweet. He was trying to give him the option to stop. It was almost cute how he was clearly struggling to hold in his rage...
...Kat's been spending too much time with Quinn, hasn't he?
"Tch. Oh, like you would actually let me." The wounds- the lacerations that he'd caused- are thick and bloody but, ultimately, not that deep. They look worse than they actually are and Kat's gotten enough injuries to know that they only really serve to piss off in the long run and Escher is looking like he wants to grab him by the head and bash his skull into the ground until it caves already. He doesn't seem the type to need incentive. "Besides, I can't." He points out, panting. Bruised but not beaten. "This fight is just way too easy. I'd feel guilty for making you think you could actually win against me!"
Wrong thing to say- or, more than likely, the right thing to say in this context because that for sure pisses him off.
And Kat snickers as he's rushed. Subsequently drawing Escher away from where the girls were standing and keeping all of his attention on him. Escher had no such problem with getting distracted, not like Kat, even if his thoughts seemed to boil down to punch and attack and maim, he was very one-track minded and, for that, he was beyond thankful. Escher had gotten dangerously close to them and Kat had nearly had a heart attack right then and there once he realized it. All his efforts had gone in to keeping the nerves from showing on his face and-
He clicks his teeth together, trying to quell his fear of ruining everything and just focusing on the fight.
In some way, the fear helps.
It's like an extra heart beat in his chest, making his blood boil with the extra pace going alongside his own and the blood in his mouth drips past his own lips with a numbing throb that assures him which beat is his own. "Gotta keep going, you know?" He smirks, though he's pretty sure it looks more like a grimace. "I can't let the crew down. I promised to take care of this."
But already the weight of total failure was eating away at him.
"Die already-! Die, die-!"
Well. At least Escher didn't have much in the way of monologuing.
Kat takes a deep breath.
Tries to push Salt, and Cinnamon, and Pepper, and the dog from his mind- Tries to push the crew from it as well-
And prepares to attack with all of his might in the hopes of finishing this sooner, rather than later. Maybe if he finishes this quickly he can make up for not arriving in time to help all of them. Maybe if he proves he's strong enough to protect then it'll all be fine and he'll stop feeling guilty for letting Ace down. "I got this. I got this. I got thi-"
A rock bounces off Escher's head.
Silence.
For a long moment.
If anything, the whole street had frozen.
"...Eh?"
As if mechanical, Kat and Escher turn to stare in unison. And Kat is shocked to find Salt, arm extended in a throw, and already crouching down low to pick up another rock-
"You-?!"
Escher snarls but is cut off as another clips his forehead.
Kat yelps. "W-What are you doing-?! You're just u-unnecessarily drawing attention to yourself-!"
"Sh-Shut up!"
He snaps his mouth shut.
"I don't know what I'm doing either!"
And then immediately goes to open it again.
"N-No! Don't speak! I have- I have something to say-"
His mouth shuts again.
"-I-I-I kn-know you don't really wanna protect us…" He would've gone to open his mouth and deny it if it wasn't for the look that she sent his way. Her head is down, hair frizzing up, and she hiccups as tears prick her eyes- not due at all to pain. It's weird, she sniffed, she'd been pretty sure she'd been all dried out of tears but watching Kat lead Escher away was enough to have her emotions rearing their head again. Especially seeing how he kept glancing their way when he didn't think they were paying attention. "I get it. I do. E-Especially for me. And I- I don't even blame you for that. But you said it yourself, didn't you?"
Kat frowns.
It's almost soft in appearance but he can feel how it pulls on his lips roughly. How out of place it feels as he tries to figure out what the question is talking about specifically. When it becomes clear that he's not going to figure it out though, he tilts his head, "...What?"
"You said you promised to protect us. Because it's what that Captain of yours asked you to do, right?" A quick nod has her swallowing, mouth dry. "I know. I- I'm not naive. I know that you're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart-"
True but hey.
"-It's because- It's because you want to impress him. Him and Quinn. So- So you get it, don't you?" She clutches at her injured arm and hisses as pain thunders through it. "Why I got this? I was… in over my head. I know that. B-But I just wanted… I just wanted to fix everything. So Spice wouldn't have to worry anymore. That I…"
She chokes a little.
Like it hurts to admit and maybe it does.
"...I just wanted him to look at me like I was useful."
The voice crack at the end is enough to have him wincing but Salt just shakes her head, trying to hide the wobble in her lip as she grasps a rock and shakily rears her good arm back to throw it. It doesn't go anywhere near as far as the first two did. "I-It's okay… that you- that you don't really want to help us but I can see that it's messing with you… to worry. So just- just take my advice okay?" It's a little weird how easy it was that Kat could hear her because Escher is spitting and snarling curses, stomping his foot harder and harder into the ground once it becomes clear that neither are listening.
"Advice?"
"Y-Yeah."
He's dubious.
Salt scoffs and shakes her head, wiping her arm over her face. "Whenever… Whenever the going gets tough, you just gotta remind yourself. Or, in your case, you just gotta think-" It was what kept her going day in and day out. What had kept her calling past the point that anyone else would've given up at, even as the 'puru puru' of the snail became nothing but a white noise with no end in sight… lulling her into despair. "What if it was your family- your crew behind you? What if it was them that you're trying to protect, not us, not some strangers- but someone you… actually care about."
Oh.
Oh.
That… certainly does snap things into perspective.
"Aa."
His brow furrows as a new clarity falls over him. Yeah, that would change the stakes wouldn't it?
If it was Quinn and Ace behind him…
He thinks he would be so focused on wanting to help them out, protect them, that he wouldn't even have time to think about anything else- certainly not his nervousness and anxiety over the situation. And maybe that was weird- Because, realistically, he'd only known them for a few days and really, probably shouldn't be as attached to them as he is but-
Quinn would shoot him a smile, almost secretive, like she felt embarrassed for showing emotion other than sarcasm or sass, but it would make her eyes crinkle and dimple slightly as her expression softened. Usually after either him or Ace tried to compete-
Thankfully, he never suggested another swimming competition because he didn't think any of them would appreciate it.
-or said or did something stupid. Though, recently, when he's about to fall asleep and it's getting hard to see with the lack of light as the sun goes down, he can sneak a glance and see her with at least one eye open. Watching, like a guard over them, and sees a smile grow across her face. Absolutely beautiful and untainted by nerves. And he doesn't even think that she herself is aware of the look. Like everything is right in the world and all that's left is to be… Content. In the moment.
Ace would light up, not unlike the sun, a toothy grin already spread across his face before Kat could do much more than glance his way. Like the sight of him or his attention alone was enough to have him giddy. And, much like the sun, he found himself squinting at him more often than not but when he would go to turn away, even for just a moment, it was to realize just how much he missed the warmth wafted off him.
And, even as he grew used to being within that heat, he couldn't help but realize how easily he began revolving around it-
And how much it didn't bother him.
How, sometimes, when the mornings were just beginning to dawn and Ace was still rubbing at his eyes, he would look around and his eyes would find both Kat and Quinn and he'd look surprised to see them. As if he hadn't expected to wake up and find either of them there. It would almost be disheartening, if not for the way that grin would come back. Even brighter than it ever had been before.
But both of them- both and he couldn't quite comprehend why- looked at him like he was… something. As if he meant something. And not just as a potential threat or pathetic person or something lesser or be taken advantage of.
The thought that he was the only thing standing between them and an untimely demise was a sickening one. Not one that he really wanted to entertain, even as a possibility. And he briefly couldn't help but wonder how they both were doing on their own steps-
Before shaking his head. No. He was sure they were fine. Salt wasn't trying to make him worry, she was trying to get him to reel it in and focus and he couldn't believe it but it was working.
After all, "If you can't pay attention to what's in front of you, how can you hope to protect what's behind?" Kat's grin turns into something much more determined because, after all, this is just practices, isn't it? Practice of a duty that he's all too keen in upholding. "I… kind of like that." He admits to himself, albeit quietly. "It- I already said I would watch Ace's back and this isn't all that different. A crew is supposed to protect their own after all!"
And if he was the one watching their backs…
He licked his lips.
Then he'd have nobody to blame but himself if he failed.
He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, suddenly overcome with an eerie focus and tried to manifest all the cold and deadliness of the Beast itself. He doesn't scare Escher, no, he's not quite on that level yet, but it does let him know he's finally getting serious.
"One."
"Haaah?!"
"I promise you…" He breathes out slowly and then repeats the action of taking in a thick breath that fills his lungs with an overabundance of air. "One hit. That's all I'm going to need to win." He lets it out.
Escher snorts, not unlike a bovine. "I'm gonna stomp you, little freak!"
Now Kat was often unsuccessful with many attacks before his claws had come to him. Case in point: the Beast. While he was not absolved of fighting because of this- he lived in the ocean half the time, if it wasn't the beast it was a shark or a too large fish taking potshots, and while he was on land it'd been boys around his age that knew not to get too close since he could overpowering any one of them in a straightforward fight- not many of his experiments had gotten conclusive… well, conclusive results. Because he hadn't been able to reach the necessary focus-
High time he finish those tests, isn't it?
In.
"Spice and those brats are next, you hear me?!"
Out.
"I'll kill you! Little freak!"
In.
He had a job to do.
And out.
He had a job to do.
And, damn it, if he wasn't determined to get it done.
With the amount of water he had- it was barely enough to fill a bucket in its entirety but… He licked his lips, running through the possibilities. If he separated and allowed it to rise and if he focuses hard enough on making them their own individual concentrations then he could… Kat knew his eyes were gleaming as the thoughts processed.
The water was already being controlled to swirl in the air, pulsating; almost as if they were hanging stars in the sky. That was a comparison that Katsura would, admittedly, not see himself because, to him, the peal of four, they looked more like-
"Carillon!"
And felt his eyes snap open just as Escher bore down on top of him. The claws on his hands ring like the bells he imagines and water bullets in rushing sets.
To Salt, who is observing the confrontation through blurry eyes, it seems like all Kat did was slide forward on one foot before twisting around Escher and falling into a spin, one clawed hand outstretched. But it seemed to be more than enough because the water that was in the air disappear like bullets and she sucks in a sharp breath. "N-No… way!"
There's a smattering of blood as Escher howls and falls to his knees, the distant cacophony of ringing bells fading within the second.
"J-Just like t-that…?!"
Kat let's out the breath he was holding, turns back around, dropping his hand, and-
Gapes?
"Wait-" He blinks rapidly, mouth falling open in shock. "I really did it?!"
"You didn't think you could?!"
He threw his hands up, eyes blown wide. "I didn't actually think I could do it in one hit! I was just trying to look like a badass!"
Salt barely kept herself from shrieking as she whimpers, falling to her knees. And Kat doesn't think he's very good at spotting emotion but he thinks she's happy.
That thought gets confirmed as soon as he sees the grin spread across her beaming, if tearful, face.
...
...
Quinn was, frankly, abysmal at strategy. Tactics, what's that? She liked to talk a big game and act like she was planning further ahead than in the moment but she really didn't have anything to back up her words.
Which is why she got so frustrated with Ace's fighting style if she was being honest- you know, the whole punch first, ask questions later thing- she was secretly and definitely holding him to a much higher standard than her. For Kat as well.
She found that if she expected more out of someone they typically went and fulfilled those expectations eventually.
Like setting a competitive bar for them to climb. One that was very high up. All the while she snickered in the background on her very, very low bar. Letting them stand on her shoulders to reach, if you will. Almost… helpful. In a roundabout sort of way.
Honestly, that was probably the only thing keeping her alive at the moment. Her absolute and, in her mind, completely reasonable insistence to overestimate pretty much everyone around her.
What?
It was much better than underestimating someone. She'd rather overestimate and have to dial it down or pick up the slack than expect nothing from someone else.
It was actually a very good strategy for assigned group projects. Mostly because it made at least one of her group mates eventually squeal under the pressure and start panic working which she could then jump in on.
(She never claimed to be a good person, much less a decent one.)
(But… ouch. Thinking back. Definitely one of her greater sins. You just- You just don't do that unless you're blatantly sociopathic. And, well, maybe?)
It only failed if she didn't gauge their personalities correctly. Because sometimes there's no helping the slackers and hangovered peers.
The problem in this particular instance however is the fact that there's not much to overestimate. There really, really isn't. The quick glance of fear that had her heart stuttering in her chest from the earlier glimpse of the Mime was incredibly telling of what she was up against.
Speed, power, silence. All so much stronger than she was. Then Kat was. And she was pretty sure Spice and even maybe Ace too, well, before his logia, would be having troubles- she almost wished she'd gotten a logia instead… she very much doubted her luck was bad enough to have her running into any Haki-empowered fellows in the East Blue.
Not unless they were Garp, Shanks, Mihawk, or… Yeah, she's just going to go ahead and shut up now. Apparently it was much, much more likely than she was giving the weakest sea credit because holy shit. Was this place secretly a hotbed of bastard attraction? In more ways than one- cough, Ace and Luffy, cough- because she was pretty sure foes like that should be sticking to the New World and not little islands yonder.
Thankfully, the Mime didn't seem like complete and utter evisceration in opponent form. More, simply, exponentially slow and deliberate, assisted suicide it seems.
Ow.
She was not having a good time.
And to be caught in a fight on the stairs too. Ugh. She couldn't even say she had the advantage of the highground.
Something was telling her that she was going to have many more bruises to look forward to later and yes- that something did come in the form of a fist to the gut and an unceremonious- ow, ow, her neck is going to break if she doesn't catch herself- tumble down the dreaded stairs.
"So far," she wheezed, breathless, "step two fucking sucks."
And oh- is that a heel preparing to greet her face? Yes, yes, she'll just roll to the side now and- aa! He broke the staircase she was lying on. It's good that that didn't go through her skull, she didn't think it would be very survivable. Because it definitely had the might behind it to back up the sudden spike of fear jumping into her chest at the thought of dealing with her head caving in. Thankfully, somehow, the fear is nowhere near as debilitating as it had been with their first interaction. Lucky her, huh. And, speaking of luck, a quick mark on her wrist, there in the hopes of something good, disappeared as the stair collapsed out from under her and she's sent sliding out from beneath him in what might be the most visually comical means of escape she's ever employed.
And she doesn't care because-!
Oh. Quinn is terrified. That's non-negotiable.
It's a similar terror to that creeping- creeping- creeping- fear but also much more…
What's the word?
Manageable.
In a sick sort of way, it's got something to do with the intent to kill her in every single move. There's no games as yellow eyes look down on her. None of that… mocking there was before. It's something that she knows is definitely strange to find relief in but Quinn knows she's not "all there" in some senses of the word. Broken bones, scars, death- something she could heal from or something that would kill her in an instant. It caused a relief there and certainly not a pretty one.
Before- The Mime had been taunting and torturous, mocking and playful with a twisted and gleeful air about him. Like breaking her would be a fun way to pass the time but not outright- oh, never outright- kill her. That was a much more terrifying concept. Because, as little as Quinn did have, she still had her body- still had herself. And the thought of being crippled, left beyond repair… It was not a pleasant one.
It was made worse by the very gross feeling of living to watch grey eyes turn to look at her in endless disappointment or, even worse, dragged down and suffering in her failure. A gross feeling that churned her stomach nauseatingly and one she'd push aside for another day because wow- it was not a good idea to be touching whatever that was right now.
Yes, death would certainly be more welcome in that aspect.
What was that saying- Death before Dishonor? Never thought she'd be buying into that concept. She'd never been an honorable person, at least not by her standards, but there are worse things to discover as she got older.
Like how it feels to be thrown down a stairwell!
Because dodging is not her strong-suit.
It feels very bad, she'll assure you. Don't try it at home. Look she's trying but, at this rate, she might be pulling a Kuina sooner rather than later.
"Least…" Oh, and now she knows how it feels when Katsura bites through his tongue. Voice slurred, blood spilling from the corner of her mouth, and she's pretty sure that if she doesn't have a concussion now she's going to get one soon. "...I'm closer to my destination now…" At this pace, she'd get there in no time. Just a few more 'friendly' tosses down after all.
The shadow falls over her unbidden. Darkness mixing with darkness.
She rolls backwards, onto the platform of an actual floor for once and just barely falls under the leaping tackle that would've knocked even more air from her lungs. Weak coughing sputtering past as she whips around, "You know, I don't know what I did to piss you off but doesn't this seem a little overkill?" No answer. Of course. She can't even have fun with this. "No? No? Tough crowd." Though, maybe, it's got something to do with the deep wound piercing his side. "In fear of sounding… concerned, who hurt you? Because I know it wasn't me. As much as I wish it was."
Given the lunge, apparently it was a bad question.
She almost wants to laugh.
The piece of wood looks like it'd been part of a beam of some kind, not that she could actually tell, it just didn't look pretty. Large, imposing, dripping with red, stuck in his side and buried firmly between his ribs. She's willing to bet that it'd gone pretty deep too. If the fact that it was still in there despite having more than a few inches still sticking out was anything to go by. And whoever had done that number on him had clearly pissed him off something fierce.
"Keheh, well, at least I know that you bleed."
The dazed triumph gets wiped off her face almost as soon as it appears.
-0-
Coughing. The dust still had yet to settle. It's not as if the building had been felled but damn if it's not destroyed. It was certainly a sight to come upon. The broken chairs and table and glass strewn about the floor this way and that. A rather large pile behind the bar, where very few bottles managed to survive, broken remains dripping wasted alcohol as fingers-
Wait. Fingers?!
With a gasp, an arm lurched out from beneath the pile of wood and scraped nails tore at the floor in a mad scramble to pull the rest of it's connecting body from the confines of it's wooden prison.
Cona sucks in the dust filled air and immediately begins hacking up a lung. "That… That was a close one…!" The bartender pushing out from the same pile, just behind her, splinters and chunks of wood tangled in her hair. Both of them were covered in a litany of cuts and bruises.
The bartender huffed a wheeze. "Tell me about it."
Oh, ow, everything hurt.
Cona couldn't believe the headache coming on. Somehow managing to power through it as she grabbed the bartender and yanked her into a sitting position, the woman was more than a little delirious and she could see that her eyes were not dilating properly. "Huu… Okay, no offense but you're-" She grunted. "Heavier than you look."
"Offense…" A gasp. "Taken."
"Oh, boohoo."
Someone's in a bad mood. Whatever. It's… fair at least.
Cona slumps against the wall as soon as the bartender finds herself freed. Both sit in silence, heaving, panting breaths, dark bruises beneath their eyes and scattered everywhere else, and thick splinters make the bartenders hands shake with the weight of them buried deep into her palms. She's on her knees. Looking for the whole world like she's dazed and confused as both their minds rush to sort through the flashing images of what took place just a few short hours ago- what had left them close to unconsciousness and not daring to breathe beneath a pile of wood until they knew, for absolute certainty, that the threat had passed.
Cona takes in a deep breath.
"So… that happened."
Silence.
And then they're both so overcome with relief that they can't do anything but breakdown into hysterics. Tears in their eyes as Cona flings herself into the bartender's arms and can't help but plant a kiss to her mouth, their previous argument so far away that she could hardly remember it anymore. Could hardly bring herself to care to try.
"Oh, god…"
"We did it! We did it-!"
"I can't believe we're alive!"
"We hurt the Mime!"
There's a moment of silence.
Their eyes widen in disbelief and some mixture of both horror and excitement has their eyes sparkling as they make contact.
"We…"
Cona breathed.
"...managed to actually… hurt the…
"...the Mime."
The bartender finishes for her.
And, for them, that had been an impossible task. A daunting unrealistic dream. Something they had never thought would ever come to pass. Not for anyone, much less… them.
Eyes flicker to the blood pooled onto the floor. It's red. And looks so dreadfully… human that they can hardly connect it to the image of who actually spilt it. It's just hard to imagine that- that a monster like that- like the Mime- could bleed red just the same as anyone else.
It had taken everything. All the adrenaline in their veins pumping, screaming until their throats were raw and their voices hoarse, and-
And a small golden mark denoting luck hidden on the back of Cona's neck.
Odd, that a series of events, beginning with being thrown through a table, would result in her gaining the small, miniscule chance of grabbing the broken piece of a table leg- sharpened and splintering- and managing to toss it to the bartender just as the Mime came bearing down on her in a body slam. The weight and speed of his own attack being his own undoing in that instance. Even if the makeshift spear had shattered in the bartenders hands and left her with marred, fractured fingers and wood stuck deep enough that they both knew a knife would be the only way to dig it all out- it was worth it.
It was worth the Mime seeing red and destroying the bar indiscriminately. It was worth the both of them being thrown across the room and being buried and, subsequently hidden, beneath a pile of rubble.
Because-
They had done what they knew to be the impossible.
And, not only that, but they had lived. Worse for wear, of course, but a small price to pay for the both of them being, you know, alive!
The bartender's eyes burn wet with tears. Joy, unrepentant and permanently fixed with her own shock over… just the entire situation. She hiccups, "...I love you."
"I k-know. I know." Cona wheezes as arms squeeze her hard enough to steal her breath. The force of her own smile making her face hurt. "I love you too. Everything is… Everything is going to be okay. But… But no more of that throwing people under the boat, crap…" They'd both had enough of it for a lifetime.
"We're gonna be okay."
And they're not good people. Are barely trying to be.
But, they think that, at least now, they might have a better opportunity to be.
"We managed to hurt the Mime!"
-0-
Quinn screams.
Guttural.
She can already feel the tears pricking the corners of her eyes and threatening to fall. It takes a great amount of willpower to grit her teeth and bear it- "Fu…" She nearly bites her tongue off as another scream rips through. "Fuck you!"
Her arm- her arm- her arm-
(-there's blood and broken bone and this feels familiar somehow, doesn't it? There is something missing from the picture though. Soft sands and ocean water and-)
Oh, god. She thinks she's going to be sick. There's something thick in her throat, raw and bundled, and it rips through her chest until her vocal cords feel like they've been torn to shreds. The high-pitched almost-wail that cuts through the air- the eerie silence- is made so, so much worse.
It would be better, almost. If there was noise. But, if anything, the air seemed to just grow more and more quiet. Suffocating and oppressive and even if she knew it was an option, she wouldn't have been able to bring herself to call for help. Too drowned by the sounds that escape her, echoing and futile. Panting, tearing, and-
Another stomp of a foot and she screams.
(-twisted, she's being twisted, she feels like she's being squeezed into a box too small for her body and it makes her stomach drop and oh- this is… this is what-)
Unfortunate thing about stairs.
They give a lot of leverage.
Especially when part of one arm is partially hanging off the edge of a step and the corner of it is perfectly lined up with the impossibly long leg that takes a sadistic pleasure in coming down on the-
There's a finality in the snap.
She gasps brokenly.
The only solace she takes is in knowing that she hasn't shown him tears. There is only a wetness to her eyes that refuses to spill. But, unfortunately, the whimpers are cutting it close, especially as the heel digs and digs and twists and- Oh, yes. Definitely going to be sick later. "Ge… Get off…" There is a break in her voice, she grits her teeth. A crack. "Get off of me!" She doesn't beg. She won't.
It wouldn't help and Quinn is furious enough to not want to give him even the slightest bit of satisfaction.
The demand goes unheard.
And the foot digs down before it lifts up and she can already imagine the pain again. How much worse it will be a second- third- fourth time.
"No-!" It's more of an open mouthed wheeze by this point. "No, no, no-!"
Quinn is terrified. Why is she terrified? She doesn't think she's ever been scared of looming death before, not like this, and she is no stranger to hurt. But somehow-
Somehow this is different.
It has been for awhile now.
"I-!" She nearly bites her tongue off as he stomps again and she's sent writhing. Struggling weakly against the other foot that pins her by the stomach as he lifts again to hurt her- to watch her scream even though her throat is already raw and strangled-
This is a torture of opportunity and she's almost afraid of making it worse.
Almost.
"I'm not s-s-scared. Of you." She spits, feeling not unlike a pinned, mangy and wild dog. Her teeth barred and bloody for all her small, little world to see. "It'll be worse- if I-"
Stomp.
"Aaaaagh-!"
Delicate twist of the heel, a simple action, really, but one that causes her so much pain.
A dazed part of her wonders how mangled her arm is by this point. She's not surprised to find that she can't feel her fingertips anymore. Can't hardly register that she even has an arm below her elbow anymore. It's just throbbing- pain, pain, pain.
She hiccups between hisses of breath. "I-It- It'll be worse to fa-fail, you know? Tha… That's why you're going so hard on me- on everything, isn't it? You're just following o-orders too!" Amazingly, it seems to give him pause and Quinn sucks in as much air as she can. Yellow eyes crinkle slightly and she can see her own reflected in them. Dark and dazed and glinting with something unreadable, even for her. "B-Be-Because…"
The heel still twists, though not as harsh, and she gasps.
There's a spark in her eyes.
"W-We've- We've all got people we'd ra-rather not disappoint."
Maybe it would've been more badass of a line if she'd actually been able to get through it without stuttering but, hey, she'll take what she can get.
-It just needed to work as a distraction anyways.
Quinn is lucky that the stairwell is so small because it let's her slam a foot into the side of the wall, just enough to jostle the Mime as she pushes a leg off of it and uses the leverage to slightly reorient herself and rear her leg up and over his knee in the same exact moment that he lunges for her neck and-
She slams her foot directly into the wooden stake nestled between his ribs.
It's a cheap shot.
And one she takes no small amount of pleasure in.
The silent howl of pain is enough to have a cruel smirk momentarily sliding across her face as he jerks away from her feet as she attempts to grind it down even further on the injury, perhaps hoping that it'll pierce a lung. The thought has a burning and icy satisfaction curling in her gut. And then she's driving her foot down and using the opportunity of leverage to push her body out from under him and is scrambling away, nearly somersaulting down another flight of stairs backwards, and rips herself downwards towards-
Well.
Towards anything, really.
Much too saturated in panic and fear to feel it even slightly begin to ebb away.
"Think, think, c'mon, Quinn- think! Th- There has to be a way to get out of this!" At this rate, it didn't matter what she did. She was going to die. He was just- He was just too strong. If there was any chance of her coming out of this she had to find… something. A weakness, a distraction, something other than playing dirty because that could only be used so many times before-
Wait, what was it that Kat said again?
That… since he was a Mime… he obeyed the… the…
Quinn hates this world's guts. This world is a dumb piece of shit and she hates it so- so- so much. Because, seriously, if it was really that simple-
-that ridiculous-
-that incredibly stupid-
-she was going to throw a fucking fit.
"There's a wall between you and me!"
She manages to spit it out somehow, words jumbled and bumbling into one another with the sheer speed at which she forces it out, all in one breath. Because if she'd been even a second later she would've taken a knee directly to the center of her back. How she didn't?
Well. He stopped.
Seemingly stuck, hanging in mid-air. The only point of contact he even had with the ground appeared to be the toe of his shoe but even that seemed virtually nonexistent and it… wouldn't make sense for someone to be able to halt their movements completely like that. Inertia should've had him stumbling and trying to get back into position like nothing had ever happened. It was incredibly freaky and unnatural actually.
Of course, then Quinn's mind caught up with her just as he took in the unfortunately well-timed mention of invisible walls before he was booking it over to the actual walls and tearing at the wooden boards since… since, if he got rid of those, he'd be able to just sneak past his own wall entirely by going around it.
"You're in a box!"
Ridiculous. Ridiculous. Quinn wants to scream and cry and tear her own hair out. This- This really couldn't be happening. Not after how everything- Oh, she does not understand what is wrong with this world.
Absolutely…
"I-It's… It's…!"
Ridiculous.
"It's getting smaller around you! Steadily."
What the hell kind of Mime apparently took requests? What was he even doing it for- exposure?!
Quinn sneered.
"No door, no key, no lock. It's an impenetrable box-" Oh, she hates this and her eyes burn with frustration and anger over the sheer ridiculousness. "-and it's getting smaller."
It's more fascinating than anything to watch him panicking. Yellow eyes fluttering and flicking from her to his hands squeezed firmly at the shrinking space he was folding himself down to accommodate. The sight brought a manic feeling. One that Quinn was all too giddy to entertain, even if she knew it was probably a bad idea in the long run, she just couldn't help herself. It was almost addictive. The prospect of winning while he was kept so, so powerless.
"And it's suffocating."
She's really not a good person. But this whole thing is stupid enough that she can't bring herself to care. Especially since it was his own fault as well. "...Keheh… he…!" There's a bubbly feeling building in her chest. Something like triumph. And all the feelings of frustration and stress from the last few weeks come surging into a crescendo of emotion.
It probably has to do more with the world in general than anything. The months spent unable to compute or acknowledge everything around her, the endless expanse of water and the rocking of waves so unlike the sound of noisy cars and the empty walls of home, the thought of sea monsters trying to kill her, of drowning all alone, of stupid men riding on the coattail of monsters and too big for their britches- All of it balanced by the sheer stupidity that allowed for the existence of a Mime so overcome by it's own illusions that it would obey others who created them.
It was so stupid that it did nothing but make her angry.
Her fists clenched. She really hated this world if this was her reality. "Well, it's getting smaller, it's starting to crush you!" Yes, she can see it now. See the way he's so flattened into the floor, so curled up and square that he's nearly a third of his original size. Any further and she thinks she might just break the illusion. "...It's stopped now." She breathes. "But it's still so constricting that not even your fingers can move, got that? Can't even snap them."
Her own fingers fumble as she reaches back, her good arm aching with its own litany of bruises as she grips the small knife- Cona's stolen knife- hooked to the loops of her shorts. The Mime notices her pull it from it's sheath and starts to struggle. And Quinn stalks forward, eyes fixed firmly on his neck, as she sucks in a carefully controlled breath. Trying to not show how shaky she really is.
She's…
Going to kill him.
She has to.
And she doesn't even feel bad about it. Not- Not really.
Her body feels laden with weight. Heavy, like something is holding her down. Even just the action of walking has her struggling to take a step forward because-
A heartbeat.
Deep breath.
She's going to kill him.
Another beat.
Another breath.
And she's not even going to hesitate is she?
A beat.
Detached, she realizes the knife is already against his throat. The blade not piercing skin but just… sitting there. Waiting to be pressed down.
She leans forward and-
A beat.
Another.
Quinn feels something like relief melt away all the anger and frustration. Leaving her oddly relaxed as a laugh manages to escape her. "I knew it."
Quinn...
Smiles.
Toothy and all too real. "I… knew it!" There's a hand gripping her wrist.
A finger wags in her face.
As if to say, playfully: "Nuh-uh!"
"It was too ridiculous for even you to keep up!" And it's such a relief that real, actual joy grips her. "It was all just a game. It was all… always a game…!" There is no Miming. There is no stupid, laughable absurdity.
She tries to stab him. Manages to shove her knee into the stake in his side, just enough to hurt, before her good arm is being ripped away- the knife skittering across the floor- and she's being pushed away as he stands back up and Quinn turns to run again-
She finds herself shrieking as a foot hooks around her ankle and sends her face planting onto the floor.
"What is with you and tripping me-?!"
A bad time to ask.
He glares down at her.
And she writhes on the ground. Shrinking away, curses spinning in her mind, every insult she could possibly imagine, and she gasps as she manages to sit up and-
A quick glance down and the scream that she was about to let out cuts into a dark, almost sobbing whine. It's a sound interspersed with panting and noiseless dry heaving as she fights down the bile rising in her throat. She'd always been good with gore but to see it on her own person?
Oh, her arm- her arm- her poor arm-
She gagged.
The Mime grinned.
All the relief from seconds before is gone. Completely gone.
"Yo… You're a real freak, you know that?"
A careful shrug.
The odd reprieve to catch her breath is not a nice one. She's backed against the wall, darkness closing in, spots in her vision, the Mime standing over her and blocking her in and making her feel so very small and so very, distinctly weak and helpless.
She thinks she might be starting to hyperventilate. Throat constricting, mind whirring, and the beating of her heart so rapid that it's making her nauseous just acknowledging it. Quinn's suddenly feeling light headed and-
The gaze is still not mocking. Not like it was before, but it's certainly delighted by the sight of her. His head tilts and he leans down until he's face to face with her, close enough that their breaths mix but far enough away that she wouldn't get the chance to throw a kick into his side again.
Dazed, half-lidded eyes meet his yellow.
"Kehehe, what? Are you getting off on this or something?"
It's a hysterical sentence, tinged with a bit of actual humor that makes her feel absolutely mad. All she can really do is grit her teeth and wheeze, blood dripping down her arm, eyes fluttering as she refuses to make eye contact any longer.
Can't stand the sight of her own reflection.
Can't bear the flash of white sticking out from the middle of her forearm, a stark contrast to the deep purple and red swelling that expanded her arm; a white fire of numbness and a closed off detachment to what was undoubtedly going to require surgery. The bone is brittle, not cleanly broken, and so covered in bubbles of blood that she almost didn't recognize it for what it was. It's a harsh score that's made worse by the fact that her hand is definitely not twisted in the way she feels it should be. Much too limp and much too beaten. The break and subsequent piercing of her bone being twisted out of place had left her with noticeable deformities that both made her eyes linger and forced her gaze away. There's just- There's so much to take in.
Quinn laughs again. It sounds wet to even her own ears.
There's a brightside to this, isn't there?
He'd caused so much pain and broken it bad enough that it's not quite registering correctly anymore. Though some part fears that that's mostly a result of all the adrenaline pumping through her. She really, really does not want to imagine what happens once she calms down. Once her heart stops trying to beat out of her ribcage and stops racing so fast and loud that she can feel the surge of a headache with every thrumming beat.
-Creeping. Creeping. Creeping!
Run Away!
Instincts scream, her body tries to respond, and yet she stays frozen like solid ice on the ground. Slipping and slipping down the slope as her eyes widen minutely and she shuts her mouth with an audible click. Unable to do anything beyond just that for a moment.
The Mime places two fingers on the pulse in her neck.
Quinn's heart stops.
...Oh. That's what it feels like.
Like nothing.
The hand curls around her neck but the fingers don't remove themselves as they monitor her heart rate. The obvious threat is obvious. A vice grip, a chokehold, the shattering of her windpipe, it's so close. If she would be so lucky, no, she's familiar with the Mime's strength by this point that she knows that it will only end in one result. A broken neck.
Strange. Once again, the fear finds itself fading away at the familiarity.
(It's different. So very different. But the end result is the same so does it even matter?)
Quinn hums. "The world's not very creative is it? There's already a scar there, you know, wouldn't it be better to try it out somewhere new?" Confusion. The Mime is confused. She expected him to be. It's not as if he'd know. She still finds her eyes rolling. "There's plenty of other ways to kill someone and this is what you're going with? Talk about boring." Oh, yes, mind to mouth filter has been so successfully destroyed that she doesn't even care.
She sighs.
Well. That's that then.
She's as good as dead.
Quinn feels herself give up and apologizes to Ace in her head.
Marks herself with good luck. "Hopefully it'll be quick this time. The least you can do, you know?" She huffs and dead eyes fix themselves to the Mime's, tapping on his hand as well. Leaving a mark of bad luck on him. "There… my revenge. Wonder if you'll even get the chance to use it." She shakes her head, ignoring how his grip tightens with the action. "Oh, stop it. We both know I wasn't going to survive an encounter with you."
He looks disappointed, if she's being honest.
Like the thought of her not fighting back is enough to make him lose interest. It probably is. He'd enjoyed her struggling much more than he'd enjoyed anything else.
Quinn shuts her eyes. Counting her breaths as she waits for the inevitable. Wondering how long Ace would feel sad. He wasn't exactly the type to bounce back, more like, shove it down and let it build up until it's slowly eaten away far beyond how it should- Her lips quirk. They're similar in that fashion, aren't they?
Ah, she's sure he'll get over it. She was never supposed to be a part of this world anyways.
It's… It's not so bad.
Her bottom lip wobbled and she bit down on it to keep it from showing. Like she always tried to do when she didn't know what to think, when she was overwhelmed, trying to sort through everything inside that was just too much and all too often.
She- She thinks she was happy for awhile at least.
Shaky breath is released as the fingers around her neck slowly tighten. Choking her. Forcing gasps as her lungs burn and-
Quinn's eyes are forced closed so she doesn't get to see it when everything in the world surrounding them explodes.
…
…
There is a boy.
Pepper knows him. Recognizes him in a vague sort of way, even through blurred and teary eyes, as the one that she'd seen earlier that day. The one that had carried Salt back home and who came in with the woman who started laughing at her pretty tea-mate.
(It had been fun. She loved playing tea with new people because it had been a game her mother and her mother's friend had introduced her to- he had always brought real tea though and sometimes looked at her like she was something special, it had sort of reminded her of Spice actually- before she wasn't able to play anymore.
Pepper saw him sometimes. Around town.
And whenever she tried to invite him to play anymore he would get all sweaty and weird and he still gave her that special look sometimes but then it would disappear and he would look- hurt, guilty, angry- and would run away before she could say anything more. When she asked, Cinnamon said that he was just an anxious man. That she probably made him nervous after his and her mothers falling out- especially since they never managed to make up with each other.
Pepper doesn't know why but she ends up looking up the word that Cinnamon had used in a dictionary.
Anxiety.
And then furrowed her brows at the definition and the words worry and nervousness and unease. Which all seemed to… fit. But it-
But it still didn't sound right.
To her. He had just looked like he was scared.
Like whenever she took the ladle out to play with Momma when she wasn't supposed to and wasn't able to get it back in time to hide it.)
The boy had given her a really warm hug before he had left, that's a detail that Pepper knows that sticks out to her, because he had seemed so awkward and so happy to receive one himself.
She can't remember his name. Not through lack of actually knowing but her head is pulsating with a headache that's making her dizzy and lethargic all at once. It's because of all the crying.
Of Cinnamon being down, Salt hurt and crying herself, of Momma- oh, poor, poor Momma who protected them and who was so, so strong- and all she can manage through overwhelming hiccups and stuttering breaths that don't quite make it to her lungs is: "Th… Thank… Thank you…!"
The boy seems surprised.
And then he smiles. And razor sharp teeth interspersed between normal ones have never looked so comforting before.
It's disappointing to see it fall when something like an explosion captures part of the horizon behind them.
-0-
Ace was in charge of ruthlessly tugging Tiberius along.
It wasn't as if it was hard. Actually, it was pretty surprising just how… easy it was. Because, even struggling and trying to bat his hands away, there wasn't really any strain coming from dragging him along. He pretty much tossed him under his arm and was left slightly bewildered by the absolutely feeble attempts at escape.
It got him snorting.
Luffy would be dragging him down by now- grabbing onto a tree and holding on for dear life until his torso stretched one, two, five, ten, fifteen feet before he'd lose grip and send himself snapping back. Usually with a tree coming along for the ride, faster than it had any right to be moving.
"Now that's just sad." The fact that Tiberius, who was easily at least twice Ace's own age, was just… pathetically slapping and punching at him was actually pretty funny. He looked a little like a cockroach.
A waving hand clawed through his arm.
Ace's brow raised as he shrieked.
"W-What is th-this-?!"
"Devil Fruit." Is the short answer from both of them.
There has to be a record or something for just how fast someone can pale in horror because, if there was, he's pretty sure Tiberius just broke all of them.
It's annoying actually.
Ace shakes his head.
And fixes his gaze on Spice as they climb the stairs and head in the direction where Kigu, presumably, still is. It helps to focus on the point where his shoulder strap connects to his sword because the yellow, leathery browns, and grey is centered around a bright spot of eye-catching teal that makes it incredibly easy to focus on. Ace is pretty sure that's part of the reason it's there- to be distracting.
He lets his eyes drift, half shadowed by the brim of his hat, and frown already tugging at his features.
Spice was tense.
Shoulders pulled up, hackles raised, and- Well. It's not really a surprise that he's not hissing and snarling like the Tiger Lord ready to pounce on some particularly… bothersome prey. Any other person and Ace might've half expected him to start.
He knows enough from their, admittedly brief, interactions that the likelihood of that actually happening is somewhere in the realm of "not a snowballs chance in hell." So, not quite zero but definitely getting there. Maybe if his sisters were being hurt directly in front of him but, hey, he's not planning on ever testing that theory.
"...You know, I figured you were going to fight me on this."
The intensity of his gaze certainly doesn't help Spice's mood any.
"On what."
"Coming with. If you had wanted to go with Kat then-"
"Then I would've said I was."
"You didn't ask."
"Do I need your permission?"
"No." His brow raised at the sudden vehemence but he didn't comment on it. "But after that conversation we had before, you know, on Nest. I'm surprised you didn't take off the moment it came down to it." The edge in his voice is not lost on Spice. "After all, you got pretty pissed at me for not staying by my brother's side." There's a certain bite there and the insinuation is enough to have Spice freezing mid-step, whipping around to turn on a cold, deadly glare. All Ace responds with is an unimpressed nonchalance. "What? You're the one that accused me of abandoning my sibling by setting sail. How is this not worse than that?"
Spice opens his mouth-
And closes it with an audible click of his teeth before turning to continue up the stairs.
Well. That's one way to admit that it's not different. Or, it is, but what Spice is doing is much, much worse. And he knows it too.
"I- Have already failed at protecting them, haven't I?" It's not quite a whisper but it's quiet enough that Ace has to strain his ears to hear and he wasn't sure if he'd missed a few words or not but he got enough to grimace.
Now. Initially, Ace didn't set out to have a heart-to-heart. He's not that type of guy- especially not one to do it with, well, another guy. Makino? Maybe. Quinn? If she pushed it. Anybody else? Yikes, no. But- Spice isn't exactly that type either. So, he takes a deep breath, and sucks it up, because, as much as he had trouble connecting and understanding other people, he knew what it was like to be an older brother. "Uhh… I wouldn't say that. They're still alive, aren't they?"
That gains a slow look over the shoulder.
"Hey, trust Quinn! She knows what she's talking about."
It receives a snort. "A bit too well, don't you think?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
What is that supposed to mean?
Spice just shakes his head. "Don't worry about it." As if that does anything other than confuse him and feel a spike of worry. Not helping as he falls silent for a good amount of steps. The only noise between them coming from Tiberius's kicking and shouting that Ace only responds to by adjusting his hold on him, ignoring the yelp that comes out of it. "But that's not what I meant."
"Then what do you mean?"
"Is it…" He seems to struggle with the words, as if not knowing how to put it. "Is it not the responsibility of the older brother to take care of any threats to the younger?"
"Yeah?"
"Then how did I not already fail them?"
Ace squints, frowning. He's clearly missing something here. "I… don't get what you're saying."
"Oh, for the love of-" Tiberius hisses, which, admittedly, is not unlike a flea ridden cat, and swipes a hand through his head. Ace gives him a blank look. "Idiot! He's pissed because he didn't kill Kigu earlier, because then none of this would've happened and-!" Ace gives him a squeeze. Just enough that it chokes him off in surprise. He's already rolling his eyes a second later and shooting Spice a raised brow.
"Unfortunately, the waste of space is correct."
"...Aa."
Well, that- Ace gets that. At least.
(Thoughts briefly drift to the Bluejam Pirates but he shakes those away just as soon as they pop up.)
There's a couple other stories he can think of off the top of his head actually. None so serious as this. And Ace opens his mouth to start to, well, to overshare- before clamping it shut, lips pursing. Yeah. Even if they're not so serious, he's not sure if Spice would respond well to his and Luffy's recklessness and hijinks. Especially considering a good portion of the stories involved a crocodile or a tiger and way too much time spent in the stomach of a wild animal. Although, honestly, any time spent in the stomach of a beast is a significantly wrong amount.
So Ace instead decides to just shrug and offers another, "They're fine though." And it doesn't seem like Spice completely believes it but Ace gets that too- hard to believe someone's alive until you see it for yourself- so he just bulldozes onward. "You're fixing it now, aren't you?"
No answer but he does look thoughtful.
That dark look in his eyes is still there but it… doesn't have quite the same quality of edge that it'd had just a few seconds prior.
"And if you're working at it now, there's no reason to regret what you didn't do before, right? Besides, it's not like you knew this was going to happen." The words feel a little stale on his tongue, tasting like cardboard, but not in a way that makes them feel like a lie. They're just something he had trouble believing sometimes. "No one can predict the future!"
That does receive a small scoff.
Though not unfriendly.
Ace feels his grin turn a bit brighter.
Of course, that's when Tiberius decides that its the perfect moment to interrupt, looking much more sweaty and anxious than he did before. It probably has something to do with the large double doors that they've wandered upon, something that seemed much more 'presentable' than the rest of the factory had been. Ace can't help but snort.
Oh, yeah. This is definitely where they need to be. He can practically feel the ego dripping off the room.
"I s-see you've made it just fine! K-Kigu's door- just where it always is! Since- Since you're h-here you don't really need me now, do you?! S-So I'm just gonna head- head o-out-"
Ace squeezes.
Tiberius chokes.
And Spice rolls his eyes, muttering, "As if we were relying on you for directions…" Reaching down to grab Tiberius by the scruff of his neck, tugging him out of Ace's grip. It's a little funny watching him struggle and, again, oddly reminiscent of a cockroach. "Would you be so kind as to…?"
"I'm on it." Ace doesn't need to be told twice. Already taking the honors of kicking the door in, boot slamming down right next to the handle and- "Pardon the intrusion!" Already on his lips.
"H-Hey- what do you think- let me go-!"
Spice smirks a little, gaze darkening on Tiberius as he slinks a hand under his shoulder and tightens his grip. "Alright, Tibby-" Something in the man died a little at the misnomer, "-I'll let you go then," and he swallowed, throat tight.
Oh, why did he have a bad feeling about this?
"H-Hey, no! Let's talk about this," Tiberius stammers, though it's more of a shriek, "p-p-perhaps over tea?! I have an i-incredible quality of blends and-"
The whole thing takes maybe a second or two before Ace is stepping to the side to let Spice toss the older man straight through the doors and into the awaiting room. Letting them both watch as he yelped, hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap that had him quickly scrambling to try and right himself, glasses skittering across the floor.
"He-Hey, I-"
"Hit the light, Ace." Spice growls as he takes a step into the room. "And watch yourself- he's got a Devil Fruit himself."
"Oh?"
…
…
Kigu was having a rather good day, all things considered.
That new coffee maker that was all the rage nowadays that he'd made sure to order finally came, all the way from a Big Mom territory, and he'd gotten to have a little fun bullying some new recruits into putting it together for him, then- of course- there was the whole deal with sending the Mime after those pirates and co. Something which was always immensely satisfying, he did so love to see the results of the Mime's work. And then the situation with Spice, stealing more resources from Starving to make sure that the island matched its namesake, bullying some of the workers down in the filtration rooms… and now Spice, again. Apparently.
He sucks on his teeth, lips pursing. Nose crinkling slightly in barely hidden revulsion, "Oh, Tibby, it's you." Making a face as the pathetic man in question was shoved to the floor of his room, just before Kigu is shutting his burning eyes as the lights get turned on. Lighting up- Well, Spice. As always. He was the only bastard brazen enough on this island to kick the doors to his room in.
Or, at least, he would be. If there wasn't an unfamiliar face standing next to him.
Orange cowboy hat. Freckles. Black hair. Tattoo on his arm.
Something about that description sounds familiar and his eyes narrow. That was one of the pirates, if what he heard was to be believed- which, quite frankly, Kigu was terrible with faces and descriptions so he purposely ignores the fact that he very well could actually be wrong- and thinks that it might be the Captain. And the scowl that etches itself across his face is noticeably deepened. "Seems the Mime's slower than usual…" He drawled, disappointment immeasurable. "A pirate's not supposed to ever find his way into my quarters." Gaze shifting back to Tiberius for want of an explanation.
What he gets is a bunch of fearful sputtering.
His gaze darkens.
"Devil Fruit?" Said pirate- he bristles once he realizes that he's been barely given a glance by the newcomer- has turned to Spice with wide, curious eyes. "What kind? Is it-"
He lets his eyes gleam in delight. "Ooh~ So you believe in the legends then?" He receives twin blank looks from the pair. "Typically, you East Blue bumpkins are too witless to distinguish truth from lie, so color me impressed. I would think someone who's found their way into piracy would be too foolish to-"
Unbeknownst to him, Ace and Spice are exchanging completely flabbergasted looks, thrown for a loop as he runs his mouth and Ace shifts, finger raising, "Uhhh, actually-"
"Don't interrupt me."
A moment of silence, Ace's gaze turns flat and Spice gently lays a hand on his shoulder. "...No, no. Let him make a fool of himself. We've got a few seconds to enjoy it." Not loud enough for Kigu to hear, fortunately, and so he continues without a care despite the amused and mocking gazes settling on him.
"Seeing as this is your first time being in the presence of a Devil Fruit user-"
Oh, wow, wow. Ace's brows shot up, straight into his hairline. That's quite the, uh… ironic assumption to make.
He could practically hear Quinn and Kat laughing at him.
"-allow me to educate you on the intricacies of the powerful."
It's quite the line. And incredibly presumptuous of him.
Honestly, Ace can't help but press his lips into a firm line to keep both the… well, it'd be rude to show off his bewilderment, he's sure. Ruder, still, to laugh in his face. Not that he thinks Kigu deserved politeness- oh no, the gleam of rage and disquieting annoyance starting to seep off of Spice in waves is enough to know that he's not deserving of anything from Ace, other than a fight- but he knows that he could always use practice with his manners if he was going to get good by the time he ran into Shanks the Pirate.
Kigu simply grins, unaware of their thoughts, and turns his gaze onto Tiberius with an almost zealous glee.
"Wai- Wait-! We can- We can talk about this! I-I can-"
Whatever pleading he was planning on going with is cut off abruptly.
And Ace simply stares in mounting confusion as… nothing happens? He spares a glance to Spice, only to find a look that may be a grimace on his face, and turns back. Still. There is nothing. Nothing he can see at least- His eyes narrow, watching.
Tiberius is staring emptily ahead. As if seeing something none of the rest of them can.
"...What is it? What's supposed to be happening?"
He mumbles to Spice, voice breaking the quiet in the room as Tiberius's breath hitches. And Ace is more than a little boggled to see tears beginning to prick the corners of his eyes, streaming down his face only moments later, breaths coming out faster and faster until it's clear that he's not getting as much air as he should.
Then, he chokes. And screams. A strangled thing- more shock than anything, and it's quelled almost as soon as it comes out. Buried under tears and horror.
Ace shifts uneasily from foot to foot. Spice winces.
"It's waking nightmares. A Devil Fruit that feeds off of fear."
…
…
And Tiberius-
Tiberius blinks.
There's a cup in his hands, familiar and heated ceramic cradled in his fingers. A lovely painted flower design, old and starting to crumble and flake beneath his thumbs as he nervously finds himself rubbing the outer edge. It's an easy action and one he continues with a soothing ease. The beautiful woman across from him is swirling the contents within her own clutched cup. Her dreadlocks pulled into a fanciful bun atop her head and wild freckles, black and pale both, are smattered across her cheeks and around her eyes in such a way that they make the simple browns light up as she eyes him. She's smiling, lips blowing lightly at the rim of her mug.
And watches her nails, perfectly manicured and colorful, tap on the outside.
"She has your nose, you know?"
It feels like a memory. One he so easily falls into- in the way he relaxes and watches and feels something like safety and eagerness fill him at the sight of her. Everything else… whatever he had been doing before this moment. It suddenly feels so far away that he can hardly remember it. Remember what he had been doing before.
It's… so simple after all. So familiar. And, oh so, comforting that he finds himself forgetting.
The fingers tapping, the beautiful smile, eyes that light up without scorn or judgment or petty squabbling- It feels like back then. When his heart would flutter, wonky, and a ball would form in his throat and take his breath away completely. Like he had never lived before this second. "Oh, Tibby…" she purrs, in that way that has him leaning in to listen to every lilt in her voice. The way the nickname, something he loved to hear from her mouth and hers alone, gently draws him in like a siren. "What did you put in my drink?" She breathes, like a whisper.
And he thinks he's misheard her.
"I-I'm so-sorry? What?"
Oh, why does he feel nauseous all of a sudden?
The sips he takes from his tea to try and wash the feeling away only seem to worsen it and he chokes on the liquid. It- It burns. Like acid in his stomach. A horrible, sickly, burning sensation that only grows and worsens as she gently smiles at him. And whatever safety and comfort he found in that smile shatters into pieces as the voice he once knew, playing like a song, pierces through his eardrums with a cold and deadly precision: "I said… Tibby." It's spat. Slow and mocking now; a bastardized version of what it once was. "What did you put in my drink?"
He feels his heart stop.
And his tongue twists in his mouth, heavy like concrete.
Her drink swirls in her hand. And he can see something like crushed flower petals spill from the rim instead of liquid and his suddenly disorganized thoughts struggle to place the herbal remedy placed within the cup. It doesn't come to his mind, but he knows what it is- instinctually and instantly- without a shadow of doubt. "All for a chance at power," she laughs, it's sardonic and not something he's used to finding aimed at him, "but we both know that you could never mean anything compared to me."
He finds his mouth clamped shut, as if by glue. Eyes wide eyed and staring at the broken flowers lying across the table and ever so slowly dripping from her bloody mouth. The weight that once healthily clung to her seems to disappear with every move of her lips, every flower petal that drips- and he is frozen as she leans forward. It leaves her malnourished and hollow, almost skeleton. The ashen and grey color that takes over her seems so… unnatural on her once beautiful face.
A cold, icy chill washing over every inch of him.
"So… was it worth it?"
The blood is stuck between her teeth, lips blue and fingers darkened with the color of death. He wants so desperately to jump away- to get away- but there is suddenly no where to go. But he knows, even if he could move, he'd never escape the weight of her empty and furious gaze.
"Was it worth what you put in my drink?"
…
…
Spice's hand is on his sword hilt, and there is the silver gleam of a blade being pulled from its sheath. "It's activated via line of sight. He can only do one person at a time." It's why he had never been able to put up a fight before. Not when he was the only one on the island prepared to go one-on-one and there were two guard dogs he couldn't keep track of while in the midst of a battle.
Ace smirks.
Flames are already creeping over his fingers, he knows better than anyone how much flames can block vision. If not the blaze, then the smoke that would come of it. His knuckles crack in preparation. "Then we just don't let him see us, is that right?"
Ah, there's a shadow of determination on his face, one that Ace so enjoys seeing. And he pulls at the fire somewhere deep within him, knowing now- with the previous fight he'd attempted to utilize his powers in- just what he needs to really get a blaze going.
What did he have planned to call this one again?
Oh! That's right.
"Kagerō!"
It's impressive; it's fire- and it has Kigu finding himself missing a couple eyebrows and leaving Spice with some that are definitely more than a little singed. To any onlooker, it would look like Ace had burst into a wall of fire and then jumped back, pulling ribbons and waves of fire along with him with a generous amount of ease and finesse.
To Ace, internally, he's screaming.
Because ho- holy shit!- that is way, way, way more firepower than he'd been thinking and- he stifles a yelp. It's wild, untamable, and far more ferocious than was his intent and he struggles to reign it in. Struggles to keep it from creeping over to Spice and the walls and the ceiling.
It's the complete opposite of the failed fire fist from before because, this time, he's completely overdone it and only he knows that fact.
He dimly registers that his head has completely burst into flame as he stares wide eyed at his own personal brand of chaos.
Well. This. Certainly has already gotten out of hand.
"Oops."
Oh. That's a weird way for his voice to come out. It would kind of sound like he was underwater if it wasn't for how airy it was and the sounds of crackling fire. Not unlike a campfire.
"Oops?!" Spice hisses.
Kigu shrieks- immediately trying to follow the sound. "Y-You… You have Devil Fruit powers too?" He gapes, jumping back with wide eyes. The expression is quickly replaced by one of well-practiced calmness, but they would be remiss to not notice the way a nervous sweat began to collect on his brow. "Heh. No matter. A little campfire means nothing to my darkness!"
He says that. But none of them can tell much of what is going on.
"...Congratulations, Portgas. I imagine you're not used to thinking ahead but, perhaps, you could try starting sometime today."
"Che." Ace expected it, he really did, but- ow, that one hurt a little. Shaking his head wildly to get rid of the flames that still clung to his face before he's squinting into the brightness that doesn't even cause spots in his vision anymore. "I'm working on it."
"Not fast enough, it seems, I've got something already." Spice fully pulls his sword out now, the flat of the blade resting against his shoulder, and a smirk spills onto his face, unbidden. "It seems that fire is pretty ineffective against you. How long does that last behind you?"
Ohhh- Ohh.
Ace liked Spice's forward thinking.
Probably a little too much.
…
…
When Kigu was a child, he lived a simple life. There was no large tragedy to shape him, no person to spur on his goals or ambition to declare to the world, and he very much expected to simply continue following in his father's footsteps- running a small business in his dreadfully small village.
But his father was young, spry, and not likely to retire any time in the near future, and so there wasn't much effort in teaching him the trade. Rather- at the urging of the village mayor, who spoke fondly of the Marine Base upon their very own island- something admittedly rare to find on the Grand Line back then- Kigu found himself applying for a simple position to pass the time and, perhaps, catch the eye of a few prettier ladies who only had eyes for boys in uniform.
It was a simple life, one that he was begrudgingly forced to find content with-
Until, one night, slightly drunk and having captured a small group of no-name pirates that had been causing trouble in one of the island's bars, he's dared to try a taste of an oddly shaped, swirly fruit that seemed out of place among the pirates' stolen goods. Not quite realizing that they had a Devil Fruit on their hands.
Not until, in a fit at being ordered to clean the toilets after someone else had skipped out on duty and gotten him in trouble for it somehow, he terrifies the Marine Captain into submission.
It's his first taste of power.
True, oppressive power-
And Kigu is captivated.
A simple glance and it had the men he once cursed at behind their backs cowering, it had his father looking up to him instead of down at him like a child, it had pirates and bandits and criminals frozen at his feet as he carefully plucked at their hearts and sent them plummeting into fits of adrenaline they had no hope of escaping. He can't see their fears, not really. But something intuitively tells him the general idea-
(-spiders, heights, the dark, pirates, death-)
-and it's wonderful.
But, one day, he notices something odd about that intuitive little notion of fear. He's been going through a lot of pirates lately, the higher-ups had wanted to see how he would fare at sea with his new powers and he was all too happy to oblige with promises of power and position to exercise his fruit freely on the accused, and it's obvious to anyone with half a brain that pirates are more common on the seas.
(-fire, brand, stamp, mark, dragon-)
The fears, they often blurred together, laying across peoples faces and becoming their identity, and he became so used to seeing their fears that he began to forget what their faces looked like.
But that one.
That one appeared a lot.
(-dragon, dragon, dragon, dragon-)
It's not until they recapture a group of escaped slaves that he puts two-and-two together.
(-celestial-!)
And he sees what all criminals truly fear, because they cannot hide it, even so deep as in their hearts. He nearly laughs. It's so obvious. Now that he thinks about it.
Petty, disgusting, sightless excuses would always fear the ones above them. The boot above the vermin.
And the thought comes to him, as he discovers a mangled man, whose voice has been stolen and cut from his very own throat by that very boot- his body is long, much too long to be a normal humans and he figures him to be a fascinating breed between the Long-Leg and Long-Arm Tribes- that, if that was such a fear that it could plague the hearts of even grotesque creatures like his dear, bred-for-captivity Mime, then it was about damn time he found some boots of his own.
Where better to go than to the weakest sea, when a Grand Liner might as well be a god to them? All the easier when it was done at the petty urgings of the even larger boots than his own.
Ironically, a spice factory such as this, it really put his own father's small, simple ingredients stand that he was much too prideful to share, even with his own son, to shame.
Oh, yes, Kigu so did love having the bigger boot.
It was unfortunate then, as a shadow leapt from flames and all he had time to react with was a widening of his eyes, before a foot came soaring towards his face that the random thought struck him: "This guy is, at least, two sizes bigger than me."
And he's sent careening into the ground as an all too familiar sword swings towards his head and-
Kigu catches Spice in his line of sight.
It's hardly a flicker but he still feels it. The fear.
(-dead, dead, dead, my whole family dead, because I was too weak-)
Before he's forced to reel back, blinking black spots from his vision, as a fist sends him flying into his desk and he captures the orange-hatted pirate instead and begins building up from square one.
See: the Nightmare Nightmare Fruit plays off simple fears, initially, because it works off the targets own mind and thoughts, building on invasive and intrusive feelings that they can't really control. The more familiar he is with a target, the easier it is to dredge up the worst of it. That's why Spice and Tiberius and the islanders were so easy. And why, when he used his fruit powers on Ace, the first thing he gleaned was fairly simple- Something the target was used to feeling, something so obvious or intrinsically part of them that it was easy to pull up.
(-fire-)
And Kigu.
Kigu laughed.
Hard, so hard that it hurt his stomach.
"Fire?!"
He shrieked, hands clasping at his face as he gasped for breath. "You're afraid of fire?! W-With your power?!" Ace can't hear him. Of course he can't. He's too busy forgetting where he was, looking tense and hair standing on end as he sees something even Kigu himself can't see. Looking not unlike a pissed off cat. "That's hilarious! That's the funniest thing I've heard in years-!"
Spice spares a curious glance to Ace, to the blaze around them, and promptly decides to forget about it- still fumbling from the nightmare that had begun at the edges of his vision, ebbed away before it could begin to eat away at him- after all, it was none of his business and Kigu would only be able to laugh for so long.
His face hardens as Kigu looks on it glee.
"What else is there?! What else is there?! Tell me, show me, I want to know what breaks you-!"
"Hey."
Kigu pauses before he can begin to layer his fruit-powers on Ace, pulling more and more from the recesses of his brain, now that he'd warmed him up.
Spice glares down at him, gaze cold.
"Did you forget that you were dealing with more than one opponent for once?"
…
…
Tiberius snaps from his nightmare with a suddenness that has him gasping for fresh air, only to find it sorely lacking. There is smoke and fire and he's missing hair and his clothes are burnt and- It's a queasy thought. That he had been so caught up by his own fears that he would have burned alive if not for Kigu releasing him from the confines of his own mind or trapping someone else up in their own.
He takes one look at the factory burning around him, hearing the echo of a voice choking him and deafening him and he sobs.
"N-N-No… i-it wasn't wo-worth it…!"
Not if this was his result.
It takes not a single second for him to leap to his feet and run from the weight of his sins.
…
…
Spice would see him beheaded.
Kigu is not the root of his problems but he is most certainly a rat poison that someone has snuck into an already bland dish.
And there isn't much that can be done after that, unless, of course, you're prepared to snuff out the source.
Spice is prepared for that.
He would not describe himself to be a killer. It was not often that his blade was turned towards men. But he had seen his own fair share of fights, made his own mistakes amidst battle, and, when he was younger, lacked the control and skill to properly stay his blade- accidents happen, they always do, especially to fumbling newbies. And it had been something that had always brought him great guilt, to the point- for a number of years- he had contemplated seriously putting down the sword.
But you can't get better if you don't practice, don't expect to make mistakes, like any new recipe or new challenge that entered his family's kitchen at their mother's urging to rise to the occasion- he pushed onwards.
Spice was not a killer. And he had never thought himself capable of murdering another in cold blood, not when he was younger.
He's older now.
Still sometimes, somehow, he manages to believe that.
This is not one of those moments.
His sword cuts through air and fire, leaving a noticeable gap in the flames, as Kigu nimbly ducks and dodges back- jumping to get out of his range even as he bulldozes on, refusing to give him an inch because he knows, if he gives him the chance, he'll take a mile- and there is a scoff of disappointment escaping him before he can stop himself.
He really couldn't help but think about how good Kigu would look with his head separated from the rest of his body.
"Pretty pathetic, isn't it-?" Kigu growled, lunging to his desk and pulling a sword out from where it was hidden beneath, "Having to get help from some piece of shit pirate. I thought you had more honor than that."
He blocks a swipe of Spice's sword and Spice is happy to find that the blade nearly shatters beneath his strength, only surviving due to him trying to parry at the last second.
"Should have known that the disgrace in your family line didn't stop at your mother."
Oh. He shouldn't have said that. Spice's jaw clenches and it's as if a fire is blazing in his eyes, as he presses down harder on Kigu. Enough so that the man feels a glimmer of nerves bundle up in his stomach. "What do you know of honor?"
"Heh. More than you! I'm a Marine after all-"
"Ex! Even they were sick of you!"
Kigu snorts. "Do you really think the government is so stupid as to have Marines the face of a Celestial Dragon organization? That's how you catch the attention of those parasitic revolutionaries!" There is a pause and his gaze slowly shifts back over towards Ace; the action has Spice instinctively following the look but he's quick to focus back, listening to Kigu's sword creak and scream in protest against his onslaught. "Not only fire… But a pirate afraid of hurting those he cares about! This trash you brought along is hilarious!"
Spice strikes out with a leg.
It receives a grunt and a wheeze that descends into laughter.
"I really should be thanking you… for this opportunity. Bringing a pathetic pirate like him along, you really make it too easy sometimes."
"...He's the furthest thing from pathetic."
"How's that? From what I'm seeing he's a disappointment even among pi-"
"He's not you." Spice snarls. "As far as I'm concerned, you're the prime example!"
Kigu's face noticeably darkens.
"Oh, enough of that then."
And Spice blinks to another place around him.
Entirely unaware that Kigu has just run him through the ribs.
…
…
Ace smells fire. It seeps into his nostrils and makes him gag. Makes his heart rate spike and jump, shoulders tensing. Suddenly and impossibly overwhelmed by the scent that sends blood pounding in his ears and constricting his throat to the point that hardly any air can reach his lungs. A cold numbness settles in his chest that only makes it harder to focus, leading only to shivering and pins and needles that bite at his fingers and toes.
It pulls at his thoughts, unbidden, and tugs him towards a recent memory of something just a few nights ago, and Ace blinks once to find himself staring at Quinn. And, suddenly, it's as if she was never not there, right in front of him and blanks that he wasn't thinking about are filled in before he can come to terms with his changing surroundings.
"Ace?"
He stares, dazed.
Quinn shifts, brows furrowing as she stares. "You look tired… you okay?" He feels himself reply but doesn't know what he says. Just knows that it has her visibly relaxing and a teasing smirk on her face.
They're in a familiar hallway. One with cluttered floors and boxes and Quinn is dressed in pajamas that he knows aren't hers and it's hard to see because the only light comes from the moon outside the hallways windows.
He opens his mouth, closes it. Confused. "You're evil, Quinn." He says, not knowing why, but it gets a familiar laugh bubbling out of her as she rolls her eyes.
"Oh, please, you're into it."
And she playfully goes to punch his arm.
Something in him shouts at the action and Quinn-
Quinn hisses. A yelp that he remembers jumps from her lips, "Aa-!" And that smell of fire is thick, back again, and its paired with burning flesh and-
Flames jump out of him.
Quinn… Quinn is screaming.
Because of him!
"No- no, I-" He jumps, horror filling his voice. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-" He goes to try and help her, hands fluttering over her form but not touching and she curls in on her arm with a terrified shriek. And he scrambles back.
She whips up, eyes filled with tears she grits her teeth against peeling, burning skin that's slowly corroding up her neck and creeping onto her face. "I- I'm the evil one?! Look what you've done to me-!" Her voice cracks as she sobs in pain. "You… You monster… why would you… you're burning me!"
He comes awake.
The shriek of "You're burning me!" Echoing in his brain.
And the scent of fire is still there, impossibly strong and something inside him lurches, nauseous and sick, and wants to throw up his defenses and-
Ace explodes.
In the factory's favor, the sprinkler system comes on.
And Ace is snuffed, very similarly to a light itself, and gasps for breaths as he dizzily takes in the sight of Spice being impaled by Kigu's sword.
…
…
Tiberius is running down the hall, snot and tears trailing down his face, when the factory's sprinkler system turns on.
It's about damn time as well.
Fire has been following him, hounding and nipping at his heels like flames from hell preparing to rip him to shreds. The panic that corrodes him leaves him stumbling and scuffed, hands scraped and burnt from where he fell to the floor and struggled to pick himself back up, nearly falling down a flight of stairs in his race to escape.
The first thing that hits him, once he finds himself frighteningly close to where he had been setting up the explosives that had taken him so long to put together, is that-
Water and oil don't mix, do they?
And he stares in muted horror as the sprinklers turn on above him and oil splashes and spreads and fire is creeping so much faster than he ever could have expected and-
Fire reaches a wick and his world explodes.
-0-
The world is a blur.
Numbness and ringing in her ears.
There is a distant memory of waking up to smoke and fire, as if she'd blinked and the world had gone to hell, the register of the lack of luck marked on her skin and the sudden realization that she should be dead, but isn't. Despite every instinct telling her otherwise. As a walking corpse, she somehow manages to stand, coughing weakly against the smoke, and the large, lithe body that had been covering her falls off with a thump. It's less of a blur then. Especially with the thought that, if he hadn't been there, hadn't been as big as he was, he wouldn't have been able to protect her from the majority of the disaster that surrounds them.
The bad luck she'd left on him is gone. And not as a result of him being dead, she knows. He's still alive then. Chest heaving, back marred by blood and burns, and unable to breath through the wood shoved into a portion of his lungs.
A blur of memory.
There's her knife. Collected and found amongst debris, the metal heated enough that a wisp of steam lifts into the air.
Walking. Stumbling around. Trying to support herself.
Quinn remembers forcing herself down the stairs. Finding a cowering man and Den Den Mushi that panic with the scent of sulfur and danger in the air. She remembers screaming at him until it feels like something in her throat has ripped, forcing him to collect a snail with instructions that she can't really remember other than knowing instinctively that he'd grabbed the one that would prevent any and all calls going in and out. They're stumbling back up the stairs after that, she's using him as a support as other people try to scramble up the singular corridor that is sure to collapse before long.
They pass by where she left him.
Distantly, she realizes that he's dead now. That there are wounds gouged into him that weren't there before. It's a strange blur and she feels weightless. Unable to remember if he'd still been alive before she left but knowing, if she looked to her hip, she would find her knife red and stained in its sheath. Yet she is stepping over his corpse with nothing but nonchalance as she continues up the crumbling buildings stairs and grows closer to the rising smoke and the source of the flames before-
Light. Fresh air.
The man with the snail is being dragged along and…
Someone is calling her. Grasping her shoulder and shouting. Huh. They sound worried. Horrified, almost, actually. And she turns to find red hair and big brown eyes that she can't place but somehow look so incredibly familiar that she shoves the man into them and finds herself giving even more instructions she can't quite recall and- and-
Quinn vomits a ways away.
There is the taste of ash, blood, and iron in her mouth and her stomach is emptied all too soon. Not surprising, she hadn't eaten much of anything in the last few days. Hadn't been hungry. And now she doesn't know if she'll ever have an appetite again because she feels so, so gross.
She blinks black dots from her vision away.
That person is back again and cold, wet hands grasp her cheeks and pull her face up to meet their own. They are speaking, she can hear them, but the words are static in her ears. Incomprehensible. And she blinks emptily as nothing happens and-
"-Ace is probably still fighting but-"
She feels her breath hitch a little.
"-Cinnamon sent to go find you a doctor so hang tight until then-"
Oh. Is that… Is that her own heartbeat that's roaring in her ears? Making her chest feel heavy, making her lightheaded, making her sick and shivering despite the fact that she's definitely not cold.
"-you look bad, Quinn. You look really, really bad and I don't know what to do. J-Just talk to me, okay? I can figure it out if you help me-"
"Ace?"
She rasps, slowly.
He- Kat freezes.
"Where's…" Her tongue feels like a brick in her mouth. "Wh-Where's Ace…?"
"I-" Kat seems to be at a loss for words. Looking like a kicked puppy, not knowing what to do. How to help. "He's inside. With Spice. Still fighting. I- Quinn?"
"And you-" she slurs, "You okay?"
"I- Yes, of course, compared to you- I barely got hit-"
She nods. Once.
"Q-Quinn?!"
And stalks back into the building before she even fully registers that she's moved. Chasing the heat of flames up stairs and corridors, until she sees broken doors and Spice collapsed with a sword inside him, his back to her and fire all around them despite the sprinklers trying their hardest above-
She can hardly manage to breathe.
Can hardly see even.
But she knows that bright orange hat from anywhere.
…
...
Ace hisses.
"What the hell was that?"
His foot is placed on Kigu's neck, crushing his windpipe but still- the man somehow manages to laugh in his face. "You- You think you can scare me, someone pathetic like you-?!" He wheezes. "You with your childish fears- grk?!"
The heel of his boot digs and cuts him off.
But that dark look comes over Kigu's face again and-
Ace leaps away, as if burned, even if, logically, he knew that was impossible now.
Because, for just a moment, beneath his boot, broken and bleeding, Kigu's face turned into someone elses-
Spice snaps awake, spitting out blood.
-and all Ace had seen was his bloody, baby brother with wide, betrayed eyes staring up at him and a terrified whisper that he never, never wanted to hear directed at him, not in his voice. Not like that. "A-Ace…!"
"Y-You…" He gapes, cold fury belated by shock. "Ba- Bastard. This is… This isn't a fight to you! This is- This is a joke-" It's a mockery of a fight.
A bullet rips through his stomach- the skin of his front and back breaks open, hardly more than a flesh wound, but as water from the spouts drips into it, it becomes harder for his body to reconstruct- and Kigu grins. "Oh, it is. It really is." Another bullet tears into his shoulder. Once again, hardly doing more than a spot of blood that bursts with a small flame on its exit.
Well.
Ace isn't laughing.
Face shadowed by the brim of his hat, face lit by flames and water sending up sparks and smoke as it sprinkles onto his shoulders. He looks almost demonic, he's sure. "...I'm gonna kill you."
Kigu is undeterred.
"I'll break you first."
Ace lunges. And is trapped somewhere else once again.
(-he fears not being strong enough to protect his brother, not strong enough to fight against the world that killed his best friend-)
Spice growls, animalistic, and rips the very sword that pieces him out from between his ribs with a shout that echoes long enough in the room that, when Kigu receives his own sword to his shoulder and captures him in another nightmare just before Spice's broadsword can cleave him in half, Ace catches the tail-end of the word, "Switch!" And immediately catches onto the idea he was going for.
(-Spice sees his sisters fall sick and rot away, unable to eat no matter what he tries and just an echo of what they once were-)
Ace grabs Kigu's desk and tosses it into his face, foot slamming into the edge of it and sending him flying back alongside it. He shouts just before eyes fixate on him again, "Switch!"
(-the whole world is against him-)
Spice brings his broadsword downwards and the desk is cut cleanly in two, the tip of his blade catches Kigu's nose on its descent. "Switch!"
(-there is no one left-)
Ace punches with flames and even with the water snuffing it out, they still somehow manage to reach. "Switch!"
(-but none of that matters, not unless the ones that do matter don't want him anymore, not unless they see him for what he really is-)
"Switch!"
(-he is alone-)
"Switch!"
(-they hate him-)
"Switch!"
(-he is alone-)
"Switch!"
(-he is alone-)
"ENOUGH!"
Kigu screams it with enough ferocity that it does cause them to pause, if only to catch their breath and nurse their own wounds as he stands in the center of the collapsing room.
Spice is the one currently entrapped within his own head. The most injured of the two as well, he's further back as Ace had sprung forward to land a right hook. They're both bleeding, bullet wounds and piercings, but none of that belies the exhaustion that they both feel like static beneath their skin- the pumping adrenaline and the emotional and mental carnage that their forces to run through even though it feels like their a mile under a swamp of old and new traumas alike.
Something behind them, probably the scaffolding above, collapses with a crash and crackle.
"You path… pathetic… pieces of shit with your basic fears…" Kigu growls. "Loneliness! Abandonment! I can't even tell your faces apart anymore-!" The words are spat out quite literally, blood dribbling down his chin, and he sways where he stands- having been unable to defend against their endless onslaught. Not forever, not when there were two of them, not when neither of them refused to crumble first.
Ace doesn't really understand what he's saying but he feels like Spice would and part of him feels guilty that he's not coherent.
Because, from the beginning, this had been his fight. Not Ace's.
He tilts his head, not listening to Kigu's words.
But the moment he drew up faces and illusions of people he shouldn't have- Ace refused to step away. Refused to allow someone else the satisfaction of seeing this through, no matter what stake they had in it, because he was selfish enough just to steal the credit and enjoyment of a finishing blow.
"-disgusting vermin, I refuse to let you destroy my-"
He draws up his failure from before.
Of a fist of flame that had been pathetic on its first attempt but-
"Hi-"
-this time-
"-Ken!"
He wasn't going to reign it in.
Ace holds a wildfire in his hand and as he clenches it-
He let's it expand.
Until it's burning the world.
(-the scent of fire had never seemed so beckoning before-)
"What?" Ace slurs between sharp, high pitched gasps for breaths. There's a thick wheeze that escapes him but he somehow manages to swallow it down. "Can't take the heat?"
Before he falls forward onto one foot, barely managing to catch himself, as some part of his brain registers the fact that the fire around him is suddenly too much. The floor collapses and, distantly, he thinks he can hear someone screaming for him but it's no use- the majority of his consciousness fades and then he's falling.
The last thing that he catches a glimpse of is a familiar hand grasping his wrist and the heavy gasps of someone worriedly trying to placate him- one that isn't Spice's. "I got you- I got you, Ace, don't worry- I'm here, I'm here-"
Ha. Stupid. Why would she want to help him?
The final bits of consciousness slip away alongside the small smile on his face as he goes completely limp. Just missing the burning floor collapse beneath the struggling, panicking Quinn and a bloodied Spice reaching to grasp them both and pull them from the wreckage surrounding them.
…
...
Quinn remembered reading somewhere that canonically Ace was described as the sun.
She'd never really put much thought into it, it was just a small detail, miniscule really, and didn't seem to have any purpose other than to pull at the heartstrings of the fandom. That or it was a wink to his Devil Fruit being, you know, literal fire. But she'd digress- in all honesty, Quinn had forgotten about it. There wasn't much to think, at least, Quinn never thought so.
It was useless to her.
Especially considering that the first time she'd heard it she, admittedly, didn't get it. At face value there wasn't much to actually explain it, not in her mind, the Ace she'd known was a typical tsundere. A character with daddy issues and a brother complex. A loveable character on paper, sure, but beyond that, well, Quinn was never one to get attached to characters in a book. So she'd taken the information lightly and filed it away in a dusty cabinet to not be touched for some time.
Though, there did seem to be some weight to it now.
At the time, when everything was just a book to be read and enjoyed, Quinn had seen the sun as simply as its definition allowed. A fiery mass, a star, something that lights up everyday with light and warmth.
Connecting that to the freckled face that would attempt to, on multiple occasions, leave a young kid to die in a myriad of horrible ways was hard. The sun was… not the comparison she would've made. Not even close. And she would've probably been fair in that determination.
Except, it wasn't as simple and as dumbed down as Quinn had initially believed. Maybe if she'd actually put some thought to it she would be less surprised than she was now, but something told her that it wouldn't have changed anything.
See, there was something that Quinn had missed. To Quinn the sun was a bright light at the end of the tunnel, warmth on a cold, lonely afternoon, and something that spread through the early mornings; bright and demanding of attention.
The sun was all the things she had said, yes, but it was also so much more than that.
It could be your warmest friend on the beach- or it could be your cruelest executor on the barren desert sands.
The sun was hellfire to those who dared to tempt it.
And it was burning.
Ace had been scorched by fire, it boiled through his veins and curdled his bones, touched by heat that didn't just whimper along his skin but screamed its presence.
"Woah…" Quinn couldn't help but gasp, taking a step back at the wave of heat that assaulted her from all directions.
They had gotten too close to the heart of the blaze, approached too quickly and with a faulty plan of escape that only seemed to falter the longer she moved. Like Icarus, the waxing trepidation was beginning to become a struggle.
The fight at the epicenter had gone on for far too long and everything was falling down around them; the walls, the floor, the building. It couldn't be described as simply burning anymore. It was too dark and too bright all at once, it was suffocating, it was like walking through a rain of fire while Hell licked at your heels, it was-
An inferno.
The sun stood at the center of it all as everything came crashing down around them, his back bare, his face bloodied, but with a final hit to end it all. Ace staggered on his feet, falling forward before just barely managing to catch himself and remain standing. That is, until, like all things eventually do when they're on fire, wood burned and the floor fell out from under him.
"ACE!" Thoughts of escape were thrown haphazardly out the window as she rose to catch him.
And the wax in her wings melted.
…
…
Quinn sucked in a choked sigh of relief as Spice tossed her on the ground next to Ace, the man is coughing into his shoulder as his hands shake and the smoke inhalation tries to get to his lungs. The factory- and the immediate surrounding buildings- collapsing in on themselves behind them. The fire strong and bright and blazing into the evening air.
She coughed.
They were covered in ash and dust, so much so that rubbing her face to get rid of it only seemed to make it worse. It was hard to even see her skin beneath. And her own lungs were stinging with whatever smoke she might have accidentally taken in.
But they were alive.
They were fine.
Quinn laid back and pretended that the numbness in her arm, something that had spread and swollen all the way up to her shoulder, meant nothing. Because all she wanted to do was sit down and just-
Breathe.
Ace coughed lightly next to her a couple seconds later, eyes popping open. Looking more than a little delirious and out of it, holding on by just a thread. Grey eyes seemed way, way too bright- contrasted by the darkness of smeared ash. And he didn't seem to be as affected by smoke as they were. Because, where their voices were rough with every breath taken in, his was smooth and light, as if he had never been anywhere he shouldn't.
She reached over and tugged his hat off for him, placing it on his chest so it wasn't being smashed against the ground.
"It's okay, Ace, you can go to sleep now."
"...Mn'kay."
He simply nods and closes his eyes. Whatever tension that had been keeping him up, seeping away in waves.
Apparently having held on by nothing but sheer force of will, otherwise emotionally and physically drained to the point where all he wanted to do was sleep. Eyes heavy, the smell of fire in the air, of burning, both human and otherwise, with the addition of artificial fear gripping at the edge of his heart-
Ace falls into fitful sleep. Memories blending in with nightmares.
-0-
He smells burning flesh.
(It wrinkles his nose and makes him want to cover his face until it goes away. He used to love the smell of fire but, now, he never seemed to be able to stand it.)
There's heavy breathing blowing in his ear, close and warm and a little high pitched, and even though he wants to- wants to turn and check up on the person wrapped around his back like a koala, he doesn't. He can't. Too focused on trying and failing to ignore the chaffing and pain of burns that litter his body, trying to rid himself of the fear of failing and of letting someone die because of him. Eyes fixed firmly ahead, on the stretching shadows and the orange that paints the scenery and-
There is a flash of steel.
Bluejam is screaming at them.
And the whole scene bathes in red, too harsh, too dark, to just be fire- it seeps into the ground like an all too familiar liquid and the breathing in his ear hitches in fear and… and the only thing keeping him going is the knowledge that, if he fails- if he fails!- then Dadan will be next, then all the other bandits, and then-
He sucks in a breath and somehow manages to not start hacking up a lung.
-then Luffy.
Someone is screaming. He tries to not think about how they're being burned alive.
Something familiar flashes in front of him, and he is moving in a way that he knows he had, at some point, done before. It's too familiar and filled with a weird sense of deja vu that has him almost numb to what plays out in front of him. Because he knows this fight. Like the back of his hand. Knows every mistake he made, every time he fumbled, knows every attack before it happens; an all too familiar dance.
He had nightmares about this fight. Though, really, they were more along the lines of memories.
He watches as Dadan takes the hilt of a sword to her temple and, as she falls, sees himself leap onto her back and jump off it, gaining height to slam the remains of his broken pipe into Bluejam's head until he finally, finally goes down. Each hit bloodier than the last. Each one bringing him further and further to his knees. Until blood mixes with bone fragments and brain matter and-
(It was always much harder to hold onto his pipe properly after that. He couldn't bring himself to swing it at Luffy after the fact. Not when it reminded him so fervently of the blood and killing-)
And Ace doesn't let himself worry about him anymore. "Oy, Dadan, are you out already?!" He shouts it, voice quivering with what must sound like rage, but he knows- thoughts running a mile a minute, how filled with fear he really was.
Please don't be dead. Please be okay. Please be okay. He can't lose her- not her too-
He's shoved out of the way and Ace watches in horror as she uses her body to protect against the blade that slashes upwards, a somehow still alive Bluejam howling as he grips his partially caved in skull, and-
Ace feels sick at the sight. Like a bucket of ice has been dumped over his head. "No! Stop!" But he's too late because she's shoving Bluejam away with all her might, tackling him. And all Ace can do is watch as they fall into the flames and disappear completely. "Da- Dadan!"
And Ace is-
Ace is alone.
Something in the memory has changed but he's too scared and afraid to figure out what.
For a long time, there is nothing. Just that disgusting, horrible feeling carving a pit in his stomach, deeper and deeper as the flames only continue to rise. He's too small to try and get through, to try and push and shove the burning wood out of the way to get to them. His hands burn. He doesn't care. "Dadan! Dadan! Hey!" It's weird. There's no more screams in the distance. It's like all sound has been sucked away, all except his echoing voice-
He has to jump away as a structure comes crashing down. Completely cutting him off from Dadan.
"H-Hey, please, Da- Dadan, don't be- don't be gone-!"
His voice cracks.
There is no answer.
There's just the horrible smell of burning.
And then there's a snap.
And he's standing somewhere else. Still surrounded by suffocating fire and death but it's like air has been breathed into his lungs because- "Ace! Ace!" Luffy. It's Luffy. Calling out to him.
He turns around.
Dogra and Mogra. They're on the ground. Burnt husks of darkened flesh that makes Ace want to throw up and Luffy is- Luffy is-
"Help… me…!"
(-the pipe in his hand is broken and bloody with remnants of something that he can't bring himself to regret but only feel disgusted by; Dadan is broken and beaten and there is fire all around them, dying people all around them, who's only real sin was existing in a land that only those touched by heaven were allowed to see, and Ace is alone-)
There's a bullet wound and dripping red and there's a piece of burning wood holding him down. Trapping him.
Burning rubber is an even worse smell than burning flesh.
Ace shakes. "Lu… Luffy!" Running forward and beginning to try and lift him up, fingers burning and flesh boiling and no matter how hard he tries it doesn't seem to move even an inch. "No, no, no-! I got you-! I got you-!"
(-Ace is supposed to be alone, that's how it works, that's how it's always worked, s-so why is Luffy- why is Luffy here?!)
Luffy is weeping.
Ace screams.
There is that strange, all encompassing silence again. Only it's not his voice this time that echoes. Breath raspy, high pitched, like the one that had been in his ear before, Luffy's voice is tense with pain and whimpers. Sobs that seem to reverberate. "A-Ace…"
"I'm here, Luffy. I'm here. I'll get you out, I promise, I just need to get a grip on-"
"...w-why did you kill Sabo?"
His heart stops.
"You left him behind. Are you- Are you leaving me behind too?" He whimpers, hiccupping. Ace gapes and takes an unwanted step back, collapsing. "T-That's why you left, isn't it? Why you're leaving me-"
Ace scrambles back.
It feels like his chest is being ripped open.
And he watches- horrified- as Luffy's face seems to collapse in on itself, still crying, like wood in a fire, disintegrating into nothing but ashes and tears. "-no, no, no, no, no-!" Ace can't- He clutches at his chest, trying desperately to breathe but he can't- he can't-
He knocks into something as he backs away and, suddenly, he's no longer as small as he was and he can suck in a deep, shuddery breath that fills his lungs so completely that he nearly chokes on the air itself.
"Ace?" A surprisingly gentle voice asks, crouching down next to where he'd fallen. "Are you okay?"
It's Quinn.
Looking like she always does. Completely unaffected by the fire and the flames around them, and even those seem to fade in her presence. An air of calm that has him finally able to sort through his racing thoughts and calming his heartbeat.
"L-Lu-Luffy, he's-"
"You're crying." She frowns. And he flinches as her hand comes up to card through his hair. The touch- it's so familiar, so real. Her other hand rubs circles on his back and curbs away the feeling of vomiting, of being sick. "Hey, it's okay, Ace. I said I got you, remember?" She smiles. In that quirky way that pulls at the corner of her lips and makes him think that she hasn't smiled a lot over the years.
"Lu- Luffy, was hurt- I saw him-"
She laughs. It's bigger than the hidden snickers he's used to and isn't full blown like when she can't contain it- it feels out of place, but not mocking. And somehow it helps calm him down, even though it shouldn't.
"I-I-"
"Hm? What is it, Ace?" Quinn laughs again, still sounding so out of place, like she isn't listening to a word he says, even as she tucks some of his bangs behind his ear and her thumb glides across his cheek to wipe his tears away. He's struck by how gentle she is, how soft her hands are, and he swallows nervously, "Why are you crying?" She asks, head tilting.
There's something wrong here. With this image. He's just not sure what to say and when he opens his mouth, no sound comes out.
Quinn huffs a laugh and her thumb presses into the skin just beneath his eye. It-
Her head tilts a little further.
Hurts.
"Is it because you deserve this?"
Ace startles awake.
Eyes snapping open to darkness, heart beating rapidly in his chest, as he lurches upward and tries to ignore the sick feeling. The disgust in his mouth and-
He blinks. His eyes feel wet.
"Shi… Shit…" And he goes to try and rub them, but finds that there's a weight on one of his arms and- He sucks in a surprised breath. "...Quinn?"
She's asleep. That much is obvious. One hand curled around his and partly using his arm as a pillow, the other splayed across his lap in an oddly straight manner and- he blinks. She has a cast on. It's only really on her forearm but there's bandages all the way up past her bicep and buckles criss-crossing from her fingers to elbow, acting as a sort of brace. With her so curled into his side, all he can really do is freeze in an attempt to not jostle her any further and stare at her with wide eyes. The… the words seem so far away, so out of character now that he was looking at her that he can't help but feel guilty that he had even dreamt them- dreamt of her saying them.
He shakes his head.
Is it because you deserve this?
He swallows.
But it's not as if she'd be wrong if she actually did.
"Hnnm, okay… okay…"
All of that aside, she'd caught him. He barely remembered it now. But he knew that it was, somehow, impossibly, her that had first reached into the depths of his own inferno to pull him out.
Ace made sure not to wake her but he couldn't help but bury his face in his free hand and let out a small laugh. "Chehehe… I really made you do all the work, didn't I?" He mumbles in sheer disbelief. "You weren't even meant to be there and yet- That's… That's amazing, Quinn…"
There's a second where he squeezes her hand back and grins to himself. Not knowing what he could possibly say. He didn't think he deserved a crewmember like her.
Ace glances around the dark room and corrects himself.
Like them.
Kat lays, sprawled across the floor like a starfish. Mouth wide, teeth gleaming, and drooling more than a little.
And Spice is-
He straightens, swallowing. "...You know there's a spot for you, if you want it."
Spice is leant up against the door to the room, wrapped in his own healthy amount of bandages. His sword sheathed, laying against his shoulder and between his legs, which are unceremoniously splayed out in front of him. The only response he regales him with are his dark eyes blinking open to stare and a simultaneous, contemplative hum.
They meet each other's gazes for a long moment.
"If she had not been there," he finally speaks, "then I would not have been able to get to you in time. I was still stuck in Kigu's Devil Fruit when you fell."
"So?" If Ace rubs his thumb over the back of her hand at that, that's his business. "You got out of it in time to grab us afterwards, didn't you?"
It gets a low huff that's a little too irritated to be a sigh.
"...Your sleep. You had nightmares."
Ace starts.
It's not a question.
"How did you…?!"
He waves a hand, "A Devil Fruit like Kigu's… it lingers. No matter how small the timeframe of its actual effects. It gets the mind trapped in the wrong headspace. It's why I haven't slept this past day, not if it can be helped."
Ace… grits his teeth. "How long?"
"For the time you spent under its effects? Day or two at best. Myself? A week, tops. For our 'friend' Tiberius, however… He's looking at a month or so."
"A- A month?!"
"There's a reason why no one on this island wanted to fight Kigu."
It's not that he cares for the wimpy older man but, Ace shivers, the thought of being forced to deal with nightmares for so long was not a pleasant one.
Especially ones… of that level.
Is it because you deserve this?
"Wait, hang on, he used it on you more than he did on him, right? Shouldn't you be affected worse?"
"Technically, yes. I, however, am not a wimp."
Well, that answers that question.
"Che. Is this your way of trying to reassure me?"
"...Assume whatever you want."
Ace felt his lips quirk upwards as Spice stood and left the room, casting one last, lingering look at it's occupants before he shut the door after him.
Huh. It seems that he'll be finding out whether or not he has a new crewmate later on.
But, his hand gently squeezes warm fingers clasped in his own, something tells him that luck is on his side with this one.
…
…
When Quinn wakes up, it's to Ace half dozing off and half flitting his gaze across the room, her hand tangled in his and being held tight enough that it was bordering on uncomfortable. And, bleary, blinking sleep from the corner of her eyes, and more then a little delirious from the incredible amount of painkillers she'd been dosed with, she meets his gaze and all she can think to say is: "Did you tell Kat to bury all his feelings deep down inside?"
"Geh!"
-0-
"If I hear so much as one snail, I'm staging a murder, got that?"
There's a decent amount of irony in this, Salt thinks, shooting a glare at the people who she is sure only want to make calls to escaped family and co. to tell them the good news. That the factory has fallen. But she refuses to chance it.
"We've got a good thing going but I won't have anyone ruining it just because they got a bit teary eyed!" She huffs. "If you have someone hiding on Starving, you can grab a boat and sail over there! I'm not letting anyone try and send a picture or location of the people who saved us, so suck it up."
From being unable to make a call to being responsible for making sure not a single signal goes out, yes, Salt sees the irony.
Since Quinn had grabbed the snail responsible for disrupting the frequencies, Salt had been putting it to good use as soon as she was pointed in the right direction- she would hate for it to land itself in the hands of a Marine sympathizer, of which she was sure there were few, but she didn't like the possibility. So she removed it from the equation by taking control of the situation herself. Even if she, while doing so, had to sit through a doctor checking over her injuries and her reset shoulder- surprisingly, Quinn had done a fairly good job, it had just been shoved a bit too forcefully and gotten exacerbated in all the running and hype to the point that the swelling had refused to go down, which was partially Salt's own fault- with enough painkillers that the pain was nothing but a dull ache now.
Compared to the injuries Quinn had sustained though… Salt grimaced. She had been the one to get off lucky. There had been talk, she'd overheard, of possibly having to amputate the pirates lady arm. Which, she could definitely see why there was a chance of that, having caught sight of the injuries to the woman- she'd hardly been able to stomach it. In all her years, admittedly few, she had never seen someone with such a horrible, horrible break before.
It'd taken some shouting from Kat- who looked about to cry once he heard the extent of the damage- intimidation from both Spice and Cinnamon, and implying more than they should that she was one of the saviors'-
Ugh, a fact which they were trying to hide, damn it!
-before doctors set to work. Doctors that didn't have the experience necessary but were determined enough to try.
"It was a horrifying injury. I'm not- I can't imagine how much pain she was in. Though, given her… obvious past, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, since you seem close to her Mister Katsura, we think it's pretty safe to assume she has an incredibly high pain tolerance. Honestly, I think she went so far onto the deep end of the pain scale that her brain just stopped registering it-"
Salt's not sure of the mechanics behind reconstructing a splintered bone, piercing outside of a person's own skin and a hand twisted in a direction that is just wrong enough to be noticeable- she'd have to find a book or maybe three on it- but hell if she's not astounded by the results the doctors had somehow managed.
"-only a small portion was shattered, the rest was mostly out of place, but we managed to reconstruct the remains and reinforce it with a bit of metal-"
It wasn't quite a miracle, especially since, if they had had qualified personnel, then it would have been far more assuredly a successful surgery, but it might as well have been. The doctors- used to dealing with injuries, sure, surgeries even, but not much to do with delicate, destroyed bonework- had pulled out all the stops.
"-placing and reorienting the bone was one of the hardest parts. And, quite frankly, the burns that she got helped to somewhat cauterize some of it. Decreases the chance of infection. Next, was sewing her arm back up and-"
The biggest issue that Quinn would have now, besides the pain of the healing process, would be fighting off infection.
"-if there's even the slightest bit of infection. The arm has to go. We were looking at her and we… don't think she has the best constitution. I'm not sure. We'd need better equipment to check. But there's something, well, not wrong per say, but not right either with her. All we know is that, if she gets an infection, none of us think her body's going to be able to defend against it properly."
Whatever that was about.
Kat had simply sagged in relief before jumping back up in determination and demanding to know everything he could do to help. He'd completely organized the painkillers and antibiotics gifted to him and had promised, rather loudly, Salt should add, that he was going to make sure that Quinn stayed healthy no matter what.
Salt doesn't care.
Quinn had stumbled, upon waking up for a few minutes, almost immediately out of surgery and over to her Captain's bedside. Followed closely by her navigator and, not so shockingly, by Spice as well, once he had made sure to check up on each of them- his sisters. Nearly crushing her under the weight of his relief at seeing them all alive and, well, alive.
So long as everything was working out, Salt doesn't care anymore. So long as she can keep it working.
"Okay! Move it people! And no- no one is allowed to see or know who the saviors are-" She pauses as people huff in dissatisfaction and shout for answers. "-Actually, hang on."
Alright, maybe Salt cares, just a little.
"If you all really want to thank them, I have an idea."
Just a little though.
And isn't the irony behind all of this almost palpable?
…
…
The house is gone. But, then again, so is about half the island's homes. The fire had spread and refused to be put out for at least a solid day and Cinnamon would be the first one to admit that it… doesn't hurt, not in the way that it probably should. Because, even with the destruction and them only able to scavenge about a third of what was originally in their house, it was nothing-
It was nothing compared to the joy she felt at seeing that damned building fall.
If a few homes had to be burned up as collateral, so be it.
And she wasn't just saying that. No, as she clutched her slightly crumpled scrapbook to her chest, the people of the island- once they saw the source of the destruction and quickly guessed its meaning- they cheered. Even as fire lit up their homes and ate at their small amount of belongings. The streets were filled with laughter and joy and, when they heard that Kigu fell with it-
The tears and happiness was almost deafening.
"Hey."
"Hn."
"Quite the response, huh?"
Cinnamon finds Spice outside the small repurposed building on the edge of the island where the pirates were allowed to stay- it belonged to one of the islands doctors who was more than happy to share the home with their 'saviors' while they recovered, promising secrecy- and watches him stare out past the shoreline, beyond the horizon where there was no Starving, Hunting, or Nest. She waits for him to say something, anything, but he remains quiet.
That was fine.
Spice… seemed to have a lot on his mind. Far more than she felt she could comprehend and Cinnamon shuffled until she was standing next to him, fingering the pages of her scrapbook.
"Salt's okay. By the way." She flips a page with a smile. "We finally got her checked out, I mean, we actually could now. Without the hold on the doctors to worry about. She, uh… She was rather adamant I give you this, though."
His eyes flicker down to her, brow raising as she lifts up a small box that had been hidden under one arm, against her hip.
"She said you'd need it."
She had always been good at reading Spice's expression so she knows the question he's asking without even voicing it.
"She- She didn't want to give it to you herself. I think she was feeling guilty for running off but still. She wants you to have it."
He's carefully gifted the box and slides his hands over the surface. The wood is scratched and old, with carved lettering on the top; its crude and obviously done with a dull knife, but it's still clear enough to tell that it says: SPICE. In simple letters. The whole thing was nailed together, some bent and hammered in on their sides instead of properly. Honestly, it was enough to make him spark up in amusement, because, wow, was it horribly put together and not of the quality he would expect from his second sister.
"I'm pretty sure Pepper helped with it."
Ah, that would explain it.
He snorts, lips twitching upwards. That was… a cute image, he'll admit. It made the box seem better than it was, simply by having the youngest's hand in it. Clear that she'd tried her hardest in helping.
Spice slides the top off and takes one look at the contents and-
"Apparently it's waterproof!" Cinnamon sings, looking all too pleased as he grasped at the implication. "Really! I'm jealous. I've been wanting a new cameko for ages now but it seems Salt wanted to help you out with your dream."
"...Seems as if my family has already made the decision for me."
Cinnamon smiles. It's soft and tinged with melancholy and she's completely been unable to help it. "It's not that. We just… Don't want to hold you back." She side eyes him. "And we can all see that you really, really want to go."
"Do I now?"
"Don't you?"
No answer but she expected as much.
"You wanted to leave even before mom died and I know that hasn't changed."
He places the well-made cameko back inside the box, closing it, and turns to stare back over the burned remains of part of the island behind them. At the smoldering, gaping hole left behind by the factory.
"It's not that we want you to go but… to explore the recipes of the world in your own book… it's been your dream since we were kids. And I don't think you'll find a better crew to go with," of that they were both sure, "they're good people. And not just for pirates. You fit well with them."
She plays with the pages in her scrapbook, opening it up to scenes of family and silly photos and everything in between. Discovering the book, under the broken roof of their house, had been a godsend- when she'd gone back to search through it, she hadn't held up much hope that it'd survived. It was only paper and cardboard and yarn bound binding, after all. And it'd come out only a little scuffed and with a couple pages bent out of place but, otherwise, fine.
Eyes linger on pictures of their mother, of large smiles and Spice's much brighter eyes from all those years ago.
She took in a deep breath.
Turned to the next page, and watched the years grow more tired, less happy, and filled with worry. Even as Pepper appeared and Salt grew.
Cinnamon teeth caught the edge of her lip.
It felt… like a long time ago.
"They offered, didn't they?"
"Multiple times."
"You haven't said yes yet."
"Still deciding."
"But you haven't said no either.
"Still deciding."
"...Are you?" Cinnamon hummed. "I think you already have."
They sit in silence and flip through the scrapbook, laughing and murmuring over the pictures on each page and reminiscing over stories that felt older than they actually were, as the islanders cheered long into the late hours of the night and partied even into the early hours of the next morning and day.
Spice had never been an expressive person. But when he was younger it had been much easier to read him, to make something out of his expressions- to see past the calm façade that was hardly a façade at all. It was simply his face and how he always was. But Cinnamon remembered how his eyes would light up with excitement and barely contained joy and how small smiles would grace his face every time a new dish would be brought out by their mother, or when he would succeed at something new in the kitchen, or whenever their mother would take him out sword training and give him such a look of pride that it would have him beaming for the next few days.
And, as Cinnamon turns the pages, sees the years of sickness and cold factory's, she can't help but feel her eyes burn as he changes with them-
Something had died in him the day she passed away.
Cinnamon is not so naïve as to believe he'll get it back if he stays. Not when there are reminders around every corner, not when he was being strong for his family who needed a rock to hold onto, an anchor- one that they forgot to pull up and now didn't have the strength to fight past the barnacles and rocks and ocean that held it down.
"...You're crying."
"I k-know." She sniffs, looking away, and is glad to note that he's not looking. Not seeing her own weakness. "I know." She rubs her eyes.
"...Why?"
"Because… y-you won't."
He sighs and his arm wraps around her shoulders, tugging her close.
…
...
Cinnamon didn't remember it because of anything that had happened in the moment but because, when she looked back over her memories, it stood out. Against the backdrop of death only a few weeks later, with death fresh in their household and the tears that fall like waterfalls and-
Spice had not shed a single tear. Not one that she had seen.
And she would like to think she didn't know the reason why but she did.
She had been creeping through the halls, darkness all around her and making her stumble as she went to the kitchen, thoughts taken by the possibility of a late night snack when she hears it. It's a small whisper, but it seems like a shout in the emptiness.
"I'm dying."
Cinnamon freezes.
"I'm dying."
"N-No, you'll get better right- like you promised-"
"I'm sorry but I-" There's a quiet wheeze and Cinnamon is frozen in a hallway, unable to do anything but listen. "I can't keep it. You know that I can't. I know you do. You're a smart man, Spice, you always have been." It's a croak, weak and sad but also proud. And Cinnamon knows how hard it must be for her to get all of that out. It's more than she'd managed to bring herself to speak in awhile.
"You do know, don't you?"
Cinnamon doesn't want to hear his answer. She does anyways.
"...I do."
And something in her breaks. The acknowledgement that they only have so long now, that they're in a final stretch that they never wanted to reach, and she's so overcome with grief that she almost doesn't hear the rest.
"Be strong for them. You'll be the oldest. They'll need you." Her mother croaks. "And I'm selfish, I know. I always have been-"
"No."
"-but I can't stand the thought of you crying for me. So, please. Please. Just… don't."
It's the most selfish thing their mother has ever asked for but Cinnamon knows, even without looking, that Spice is already nodding to it. He could never tell her no after all. Never. Usually their mother was aware of that and never asked for anything that would or could be something that Spice didn't want. But… as sick as she is, it wouldn't surprise Cinnamon to realize that it never crossed her mind, because she had forgotten it. And can't bring herself to blame her mother, even now-
Because none of them had realized that, in asking that, Spice had locked his emotions down and bound them so tightly that not even he could unwind them again.
Cinnamon had never seen her brother shed a tear again.
So she tried to do it for him.
Sobbing for two as they woke to find their mother's body cold in her bed and their house a hollow husk of what it once was.
…
…
Pepper is just one small head amongst the crowd.
It's easy to hop through legs and duck around people, only semi-aware of the curious eyes that follow her as she stumbles past. The island is loud, loud enough that it's starting to give her a headache, and there're so many people that it's a struggle to shove her way through, especially since people were collected so closely that it was almost impossible to find squeezable gaps through them. Not that she could blame them. The partying was much anticipated and Pep wouldn't be surprised if half the people fell unconscious partway through- a mix of alcohol and exhaustion now that the fires had been put out and it was the first time in years that they were given a break from factory work.
A break without nightmares or fears used against them… it sounded great! And Pepper was happy for everyone, she had never seen half the people smile and the kids were actually running around for once and-
Her own face is pulled into a pout of worry.
And she forces her way through harder, not apologizing even when she may accidentally shove someone too hard. Whatever. She was tiny and she had places to be. And dogs to see-
"Is she-" She huffs as she runs into the small house, elbowing past someone in her haste who jumps in surprise, "Is she okay?"
The veterinarian blinks down at her and gives a small laugh. "As I was just telling Mister Kat here-"
Pepper gasps and turns with wide eyed to stare up at red hair and brown eyes. It was the boy!
"-your Momma is just fine. She won't be able to move for a few days though, if you want to visit?"
"Yes, please!"
The please is tacked on almost as an afterthought.
She doesn't remove her eyes from Kat.
They say nothing for a few minutes, staring each other down and Kat slowly begins sweating bullets. Was she- Was she trying to be intimidating?
(If she was it was working.)
"Did you come to check on Momma?!"
He nearly jumps out of his skin at the suddenness of the question. "Y-Yes…!" He stuttered. "I, uh. Got worried. And she was looking bad after the fight so I… wanted to see if she was f-fine?" Even if that was exactly what he had come to do, it came out sounding like a question.
"Oh… Okay! Come with me then!" He blinks in surprise as she grabs his hand and starts tugging him along. "Come on! Come on, Momma isn't getting any younger!" It's such an odd line to hear from a child that all Kat can really do is let out a startled laugh and follow her dragging.
"Oh, she really is doing okay!"
The arrival to Momma's pen is met with barking from other animals in the room but, as they settle in, it starts to diminish. The poor thing has a few shaved spots and a boot on her back leg, but otherwise seems perfectly content to just laze around in the corner. It's an incredible contrast to the ferocity that Kat had seen her try to defend her family with and he feels something jump in his chest, for some odd reason, as he greets her with a small wave.
He receives a snort that might've actually been a sneeze in return but, er, that was enough for him.
"Momma!" Pepper skips to her side, beaming from ear to ear. "I was worried about you!" Kat covers his mouth as she shoves him in with her and goes to Momma, hiding his smile. "I- I'm so glad you're alright."
The image has something like pride swelling up in his chest. But there was just one thing that was bothering him...
"Hey, are you okay?" Kat finds himself asking, eyeing Pepper from where she stands, crouched over her dog. She's got a look on her face that tells him she's deep in thought and somethings telling him their not exactly good ones either. "...You know, I was going to try to bury all my feelings deep inside me too, but Quinn told me that was a bad idea."
Pepper looks up at him then looks away.
He feels so awkward. "A-And she's, like, I think she's pretty smart. So she's probably right. She even got mad at Ace for telling me to do that and… and…"
Oh, gosh, definitely awkward.
He nearly cheers when Pepper finally decides to speak. Her voice soft and quiet but not so much so that it made it hard for him to hear her.
"Salt says Momma is not really our Mom." She mumbles and Kat- who'd been told of the situation- tenses and has to visibly look away from her. Well. That's… not quite what he was hoping for. Then again, he didn't know what he expected. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"S-Sure?"
He rubs his nervous hands onto the front of his jeans.
"Sometimes I think she might be right."
Kat freezes.
She continues to pet their dog, looking decidedly unbothered by the revelation she's just made, until Kat looks down and sees her shoulders starting to shake. "...But I don't want her to be because…" Pepper sniffs, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. "Because then that would mean…"
Kat opens his mouth, struggling for words to help, before shutting it.
"Everyone was so much h-happier with Mom here and she- she promised she still would be so- so its Momma, isn't it?" She sounded desperate, as desperate as someone her age could sound, grasping at straws with teary eyes. "S-She… She even protected us like Momma would so that means-"
Kat's physically having to hold himself back from cringing.
Pepper seems to notice and trails off, feet kicking as she buries her face into fur and-
"You know," he scratches his cheek, old scars itching his gils, "I lost my mother too."
"Did she… Did she have to go away for awhile t-too? Did she promise…"
"She promised to always be there for me!" Kat chirps with a cheerfulness that's as fake as it looks. "...I- even if she can't physically be here, I… I'm sure she tries in other ways." He fingers his claws with a small smile, the silver gleaming back with a lightness that has him sucking in a deep breath and letting him calm himself.
Pepper watches the action with wide eyes before she blinks. "...Did she die?"
And Kat answers that question as honestly as he can.
"I don't know."
"You don't?" She sounds so flabbergasted that it garners a surprised laugh from him. "Hey."
"I don't. She was… No, no. She was taken." He gives her a sad smile and Pepper frowns, unsure of what to make of the claim and not knowing how to respond to it. "I used to have this shell that was hers. It was her most prized possession and it was… amazing. For a long time, it was the only thing she really left behind just for me-" He blinks, trying to hide the years old sorrow and upset that still boils somewhere deep and buried within at the thought of her lost shell. "And I couldn't even keep it safe for a day."
Pepper opens her mouth to ask questions, questions he knows he's probably not prepared for so he's quick to march on.
"I have these now though so its- its okay." He shows his claws. "I, honestly, don't think I could've left my island if I didn't bring a piece of her with me."
"A piece of her?"
"Well, yeah. When someone is-" He struggles for a moment before settling on- "Away. When someone is away, they'll leave pieces of themselves behind for you to remember them by. I just think that it's good to keep in mind that-"
He reaches out and glides his hand through soft fur and listens to the dog grumble and shift into the pettings. There's a horribly sad look in his eye, one that he can't put into words and one that makes the claws on his hip feel heavier than they ever could realistically be.
"-the pieces of someone that you do have, don't make up that person. Otherwise…" He swallows, tongue heavy and not from teeth for once. "Otherwise that person would be here themselves, wouldn't they?"
Pepper grimaces, eyes closing into fur and shudders.
Momma huffs beneath her. "...just a piece then?"
"Just a piece."
-0-
Quinn can't help but laugh as Ace drags her and Kat into the crowd, his hat hanging on his back by its cord and some meat-on-a-stick or something or other shoved into his mouth. They'd just been rejoined by Kat- who returned looking more melancholic than he did when he left but also lighter, somehow- before Ace had been all too happy to push them into festivities with the islanders even though they were supposed to keep a low profile- Well. Salt had promised to take care of it and Quinn was inclined to take her for her word after seeing the determined look in her eye. And Quinn was currently on too many painkillers to care- so!
Party it was.
"Ooh! Spice and Cinnamon are having a cook off everyone!"
"Really?! They haven't done that since-"
And Quinn was not imagining that sparkly look in Ace's eye as he took in all the food and drink and dug in with an inhuman gusto that had everyone who saw him wide eyed and flabbergasted, at least, those who were unaware of his appetite. She nearly started crying laughing when someone started screaming at the sight and made sure to place more than a few bets on the amount of plates he would clear. Bets that she was more than assured to win.
Keh. At least they would come out of this with a sum of money to back them up- Quinn rather hated being so poor that they could only really plan for the clothes on their backs but, ah, it was to be expected. What with being pirates. And being pirates who haven't planned to pillage anyone or anything just yet.
She can't say she doesn't enjoy it all- mind slightly addled as she hiccups with laughter at something or other. Something funny that she can't quite recall and that somehow causes a bubbly feeling in her chest to take over, helping her ignore the dull ache that came from her arm- soothed only by medicine and painkillers that had her a bit nauseous and giddy but otherwise fine.
"Oy, Quinn! What are you doing over here all by yourself?! You have to try this-!" Ace shoves something in her face that she tentatively tastes and then delights in once she discovers that it's absolutely delicious. "Spice made it! We absolutely need to convince him to join-" And, yes, she can definitely get behind that attitude if this was the quality he put out regularly.
It was like heaven for her mouth and Quinn realizes, all of a sudden, as she takes another bite and then two and then three, just how hungry she is.
She snorts, lips pulling up into a grin. "Well, if he doesn't, I think you'll know where I'll be." It's good enough that she briefly entertains the idea of staying for it, though not seriously-
Ace pouts and only pouts harder when she laughs.
"I'm joking, Ace! Don't worry."
The party seems endless and is somehow- impossibly- more cheerful than the one back at Cona's place. Quinn could hardly imagine that as a possibility but, well. She supposes the people here have something better to be happy about and absolutely no qualms about making it as loud as it could possibly be.
Kat is off and making sculptures of water again, exploding them into a fine mist over the crowds and delighting in the attention it gains. There's no stigma on this island, not from what they can see, because the islanders couldn't possibly care about appearances- especially not with him. When he had been the only one of their little trio to put effort into putting out the fires that rose from Ace's flames. He'd been seen by virtually everyone on the island as a helping hand that protected Spice's family and did nothing but help them all out. The direct opposite of something to be afraid of or someone to ostracize-
Quinn felt something soften at the sight of his wide, beaming grin.
"They love him, don't they?" Quinn couldn't help but chuckle a little. She'd been worried but it seems, in this instance, actions speak for themselves. "I hope other islands can- Oh?"
She's sent nearly crashing into the ground as Ace yanks her by the hand.
Quinn doesn't… quite yelp. But it's a close call.
"Chehaha!" And then he's spinning her and she tries her best to not show just how flabbergasted she is, blinking wildly as she's sent nearly sprawled out spread eagle from the sheer unexpected force behind it. Even if all it is is him raising her hand above her head and pulling her around. As it is, all she manages to react with is catching one foot behind the other and collapsing on her butt into the dirt. Ace grinning down at her. Looking way too proud of himself. "I saw someone doing this earlier! Is that how it's supposed to go?"
She must really be giddy because Quinn doesn't think twice about throwing her head back and laughing.
Despite the fact that she's one hundred percent sure that he knows that that's not how it's done.
"Maybe in a ballroom. But this is a party," she dusts herself off as he helps her back up with a small apology that she knows is only to be polite because he's much too busy laughing at her to seriously mean it, "and I didn't know you were interested in dancing?"
He shakes his head. "Not really." And then shrugs. "Well, I mean-" He points at the many people sweeping each other off their feet to music that plays from- from somewhere. Quinn's not all that sure to be honest but she thinks she saw a couple violinists walking around somewhere. "They look like they're having fun, don't they?"
And he's right, they really do. Laughter bubbling and screams of joy that pierce and just fall into more smiles. There's not really any semblance of order to them either- it's completely wild and Quinn's sure that half the people have never danced in their entire life but, well- they're up and they're trying their best so does it really matter?
"Do… you want to learn?"
"You know how to dance?"
"Well, not like that. But my… island has a fun style and it's pretty easy to remember the steps if you know how it works. And it's kinda all about improvisation so-" She smiles a little and- she's not aware of it but Ace picks up on her nervousness from a mile away and something inside him can't help but relish in the tentativeness to the words. Because she clearly wants to share it with him and is-
She's chewing on her lip like she always does and is almost looking away from him as she rubs the back of her neck. On anyone else, it would simply be nerves that he sees. But, on her, it looks downright vulnerable and Ace knows that if he says no he'll be absolutely remiss-
It's a good thing he doesn't want to.
He perks up.
"And, hey, you're smart and not a spazz, so I think you'll pick it up pretty fast anyways-" And if that isn't just the most convincing argument/pep talk he's ever heard.
Ace's lips quirk upwards in amusement. "Sure." And watches Quinn blink up at him in surprise, shocked that he said yes, before- Oh. Ace is glad he didn't say no. He's never seen such an elated smile on her face before.
"C-Cool." She coughs and offers a hand. "So- have you ever heard of the Shuffle and Cutting Shapes?"
The confused look he sends her is enough to tell her that no, no he hasn't. But, hey, she expected as much. So she yanks him to a space where the music is only a bit easier to talk through and there's just enough room that he won't hit anyone when he inevitably trips over his own feet and has her laughing at him.
The fact that his tongue is poking out of the corner of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed downwards, as he stares at his feet with such a look of concentration that it looks like it hurts, is just the frosting on the cake. Downright charming.
…
...
Quinn almost feels bad showing him up once he starts to get the hang of it.
(He's got the steps down, for the most part, and she's definitely impressed. But he has nothing on the speed and practiced ease in which she does the same.)
But he simply pulls her back towards the dancing crowd that has only grown while they were gone. He's slow compared to her- stumbling and laughing all the same though, so it's okay and she lets him spin her around so long as he doesn't plan on sending her to the ground again. Given the mischievous look in his eye though, she's quite certain he's got something planned a couple times and smirks- tripping him up and making him stumble before he can even think of getting away with anything.
"H-Hey-!"
She's got a hand on his bicep, pulling him out of his steps and out of the spin he was about to attempt to surprise her with. "What were you planning with that one, huh?"
He looks away and says, "N-Nothing," you know, like a liar.
(He had been planning on catching her at the end, by her good arm, and then just dropping her in the dirt as soon as she thought he was going to help her back up.)
(Quinn was onto the jerk.)
"Ooh! Hey, Spice said he was going to start on some beer battered chicken fried-"
That's all Ace needs to hear before he's perking up and Quinn actively watches as his interest in dancing has dwindled noticeably in the face of delicious foods he'd never had before, much less heard of- and she rolls her eyes as she pulls him out of the crowd with her. "Go on, oh capitán mi capitán." He doesn't need to be told twice-
Or, he wouldn't. If it wasn't for the fact that he seemingly does a double take and finds himself skidding to a halt, turning around to stare at her with a suddenly serious gaze that has her shifting. He glances down and Quinn frowns. "What? Is there something wrong-?"
"What happened back at the factory?"
"Huh?"
He points at her arm, brow raised. And she bites her bottom lip and brings it to her stomach, squeezing slightly and throwing her other arm over it in a lame attempt to hide it as her shoulders came up to hug her neck. "You were only supposed to go down and find the correct snail, right? How'd you hurt your arm-" He paused and then clarified. "How did you hurt your arm so bad that they were having trouble fixing it?"
He hadn't heard much, not for a lack of trying either, Ace couldn't exactly help being curious about the injury, especially when Quinn should've been in the, objectively, safest route- but all Kat had told him was that Quinn's arm came out bad enough that the doctors thought for a bit that they weren't going to be able to fix it. And Ace is no doctor, but he trusts the skill required of most of them, so that's a pretty worrying statement to make. Especially since Ace had a feeling that he hadn't quite grasped the severity of it all, given the look on Kat's face when he was telling him.
He'd been unnaturally pale and looked a bit green around the gils. And not because of his fishman heritage.
Quinn herself hadn't said a single thing. Actually, she'd hardly acknowledged it. Seemed completely alright with acting like there wasn't a single thing wrong with her- despite the fact that he can see that her fingers are still swollen from where they poke outside her cast and brace; the way they lay stiff and unmoving for the most part and how she grips her bicep and squeezes, eyes crinkling in discernable pain..
The question has her falling completely silent, still.
For a second, Ace thinks she might not even be breathing until she huffs out what could be a curse, followed quickly by a grimace: "I… would rather not talk about it." She quirks a smile his way and Ace is definitely not imagining the fakeness behind it. He frowns. "I just fell down the stairs and got in a bit of a spat. Don't worry."
He opens his mouth and then decides against saying anything. He trusts her and he's not about to overstep his boundaries if it's something that she really doesn't want to bring up. "If you're sure…" Ace knows that he barely deserves to be tolerated, the fact that she's simply sticking around after getting hurt is more than enough. And, as much as he wants to care, he doesn't want to push his luck anymore than he already has.
"Mnh. Now, shoo. On your way, food and our potential new chef await you." She goes so far as to make the hand motion and everything and he rolls his eyes before preparing to go do just that except- "Aa. Hang on."
He blinks at her.
"Captain."
And feels himself straighten subconsciously at the address.
It's not as if it's everyday that Quinn refers to him as Captain and, given the track record, he's starting to think that she's only going to use it if she's serious about something.
The use has him wondering if he did something wrong.
"I… have to apologize to you."
There's a look in her eyes that a little dark and feels like it would have a better place with her glares than with the guilty expression that has her bowing-
Like, actually bowing.
At the middle, so low that he can only really see the way her hair drapes forward and completely hides her face behind wild black tresses. It's an especially deep bow and one that's…. It's awkward and stiff and has him shocked by just how- wrong it looks. And he shifts uncomfortably at the sight. Something about her- something about Quinn-
He doesn't really like the thought of her bowing to anyone, much less him. It doesn't suit her. She seems too… for lack of a better word, "noble" to bow to anyone.
(Rather. It feels more like bowing to someone, kneeling to someone, had never been a thought on her mind. Quinn is someone who had never shied away from staring someone dead in the eye and that was a quality surprisingly hard to come by when one wrong look at a wrong person, in this world, could end with a sword to the throat.)
"Oy, oy, oy, that's…" He makes a face instead of actually voicing his discomfort. It would be worse if he didn't acknowledge the action because, from the tenseness of it, he can tell that it takes a lot for her to go through with it. Ace would not be one to call Quinn a prideful person, he doesn't think she would either, but seeing her swallow what she has is… it makes a pit form in his stomach. It would be disrespectful of him to not accept it. "Why?"
"As of this point in time, I have not been a very good crewmate." She lifts her head, just slightly, just enough that her hair shifts and he can see a black eye gleam between her bangs. Harsh and intelligent and something determined. "And that will not be happening again."
Then she stands, heels figuratively clicking as they come together, she gives him a short nod, and immediately wanders off- as if nothing had happened and she hadn't just left him blinking at her back in shock and confusion. "...Oh… kay?" He frowns as he makes his way over to Spice's outdoor kitchen setup and steals a kebab of something, eating much slower than he normally would as his brow furrows deeper and deeper.
A spot of worry nips at his heart.
What the hell happened in that factory while he was off fighting Kigu?
…
…
Cinnamon knows that it's about time for her to head to bed but she can't really find it within herself to sleep. The party is still going on strong, the end still not in sight, and she'd pulled away from her and Spice's kitchen setup in order to take a break- to take a breather from the joyous smiles and loud noises that were-
She enjoyed them, don't get her wrong, but she was nursing a nasty concussion and the noise was starting to give her a headache that no amount of Tylenol could help ease. It's why she finds herself at the edge of festivities and pulled away from the majority of the people. She's just hoping for some semblance of quiet-
Which is why the kicking, curse, and shattering of a glass bottle has itself piercing through her head and catching her attention. And how, when following the direction the sound came from, Cin finds herself stumbling upon the lone woman of the pirate trio. A lone woman who, at this current moment in time, had clearly just kicked a beer bottle into the side of a house and was using her good fist to punch a wall.
"For fucks sake," Cin does not miss the hard expression on her face, nor the way she grits her teeth and her eyes look slightly wet from frustration and stress and- Quinn curses. "Damn it. Sh… Shit…!"
There's not much else she can make out except for Quinn running her hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the crows nest, and hunching in on herself. It's clear that whatever happened to have her out here by herself- it's got her incredibly distressed.
"O-Oh, you're a real idiot, aren't you, huh? A-Absolutely pathetic!" She hissed. "So weak… So weak… Like hell you'll prove yourself, freaking worthless…" It was harsh muttering interspersed with curses and a language that Cinnamon doesn't know but vaguely thinks is from one of the other Blues. "Can't believe… Can't believe that I- I actually…"
Cin watches as she slams her back into the buildings wall and slowly falls to the ground, face buried in one hand and knees pulled tight to her chest.
"H-Hey-?"
She finds herself speaking before she can second guess herself.
And Quinn's head whips up. Letting Cinnamon realize that she must've been biting her lip so hard that it bled because there were spots of red smeared across her mouth. She looked about ready to cry as well- face scrunched up with a furiousness born of frustration and stress- but none fell, even with her eyes so rimmed with red they were starting to grow puffy.
Quinn takes one look at Cin and curls in on herself, looking absolutely humiliated. "Sh-Shi- I'm fine, I'm fine! You- You can go. I just- need a second here." The mortification is clear in her voice and Cinnamon instantly feels bad that she had so much as acknowledged her, it's clearly the opposite of helpful. "Fu- Fu- P-Please leave. I- what are you doing?"
Cinnamon is already sliding into a seat against the wall next to her and Quinn looks an odd mix of horrified and confused and-
She grits her teeth and turns her head away, wiping at her face and Cinnamon is almost impressed by the deep shuddering breath she takes in that immediately silences any and all whimpers that could've escaped her. A half second later, even her shoulders have stopped trembling, and Quinn is tense. Staring right out ahead of her with such a blank look on her face that Cin would think her a corpse.
The only evidence left behind: her shaking hands and the red beneath her eyes.
Cinnamon waits a few moments longer as she forcibly collects herself- guilt rolling over in her stomach at catching her moment of weakness and then staying- and waits to see if the act will break. It doesn't. So Cin opens her mouth and asks, "...What happened?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Kinda late for that, don't you think?"
Cinnamon has to say that it's incredibly weird to see her acting completely unaffected after finding her like she was- if it wasn't for her knowing for a fact what she saw and actively reminding herself, Cin might've been fooled even now.
(The carefully crafted mask… it reminded her too much of what Spice did. And something in her clenches at the thought.)
"It… doesn't matter."
Cin raises an unimpressed brow. "If it didn't matter, you wouldn't be over here, would you?"
It gets her an annoyed glare.
It falls into something pitiful a second later.
"What happened?" She asks again.
The simplicity of the question must be getting to her because Quinn is suddenly overwhelmed by it and bows her head, nails digging into her face until they left digits and scrapes. "I…" she struggles, and the wetness in her voice as she chokes it out is not her imagination, "I killed someone."
She confessed.
The sudden silence is deafening.
"...Who?"
"Does it matter?"
"I g-guess not."
Quinn sniffs as she buries her face in her knees this time, slamming her head down hard into the bone in the hopes of making it hurt. Honestly, of all things, that's not what Cinnamon had been expected. "W-Well… I- can't say I don't understand." Quinn blinks, brows crinkling. "I mean, it's not good but… if someone attacks you, these things happen, don't they?"
"You've killed someone?" She croaked in disbelief.
"He had been trying to- He had been attacking me. Just some drunk. When I was younger." Cin admits, closing her eyes and briefly remembering the fear and later the horror over how far things had gone. Too far. It should've never gotten to that point. "I… don't regret protecting myself but- I could've done things differently, I think. If I hadn't panicked."
"...You were just defending yourself."
She shrugs, "There's still not a day that goes by that I don't feel guilty about it."
Quinn laughs. "Kehaha-" It's tinged with a tad of hysterics. "-that's just it though, I don't." Cin blinks at her in surprise. "I-I-I don't feel bad. Not even- Not even a little bit. And I didn't even- I didn't even really want to kill him… I don't really remember even doing it. It's just flashes! W-What kind of monster-?"
She swallows, growing quiet and kicks a rock.
"What kind of monster doesn't even care that they killed someone? It- I don't… I don't feel anything. Why can't I feel- And th-that's…" She goes even quieter, voice hardly more than a whisper. "That's horrible, isn't it?"
Cinnamon grimaces.
"...Did they attack you? They're the one who did that to your arm, aren't they?" That had been a terrible sight to see and one that Cinnamon didn't want to remember. At Quinn's nod, she returns with what she told her. "Then you were just defending yourself, weren't you?"
She hopes that helps get through to her.
"Just because I feel guilty doesn't mean you have to too. Everyone is- Everyone is different. And the situations weren't the same I'm sure but-"
"...I wasn't though."
The whisper is startling in the silence.
"What?"
"I wasn't. Defending myself." There's something dark and deadly in Quinn's gaze that has Cinnamon shivering. "I could've left him. Could've walked away. He was too injured to move and he would've suffocated anyways. I'm sure of it. But I still… I still… I didn't even think twice, I…"
She trails off and Cinnamon shifts, looking at her, eyes narrowing. "I think…" She realizes almost as soon as she says it. "I think you do feel bad, actually."
"Huh?"
"I think you feel horrible and it's eating you up inside."
Quinn opens her mouth, closes it, shakes her head in frustration. "But I don't- that's the opposite of-"
"I think you just don't know what to do with it. Or-"
"No."
"Or how to respond to any of it. So you're just numb-"
"No!"
"-and that's what's scaring you. That you feel horrible. Terrible. And you can't handle any of it, so you're trying to forget about it. Forget it even happened-"
"That's not-"
"-but you can't. And you're scared. Because you don't actually want to feel anything but you're terrified that you will."
She stutters.
And Cinnamon feels she hit the nail on the head.
"They hurt you." Quinn stares at her, mouth agape as she worked to try and find something to respond with but Cin didn't need anything from her. "And they were going to hurt the others if you didn't stand in their way, right?"
"Th-They couldn't have… not Ace at least. Ace is strong and-"
"I don't think that matters." Cinnamon smiles a little. "I- Have you ever had a family, Quinn?"
"O-Of course I have-"
"Sorry, sorry. Let me rephrase that: Have you ever had a real family? A close-knit bunch that you would do… anything for. Like with me and Spice and Salt and Pep."
Quinn falls silent and seems to think for a minute. "...yes…" she finally admits. "W-with only one person though. My- My grandmother- she… she's gone already though…"
"But you remember what that was like, right?" A nod. Hesitant. "How much you just want to help- take some weight off their shoulders?" Another nod, stronger now. "It's the same with them right? With the pirates?"
Cin can't help the smile jump on her face as Quinn's face blushed hotly, like she was only just realizing now. "I- uh…" And maybe she was. The dumbfounded look on her face is cute. "A-Aa, shit. Shit." Her face is reddening and Quinn's eyes are blown impossibly wide. The sudden new comprehension has her mouth agape and-
Then both hands are tangling in her hair and an even more panicked look is coming over her and Cinnamon startles at the sudden tears pricking the corner of her eyes and, "Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, no- tha… that can't happen. I'm not allowed-"
Ookay, Cinnamon stares, this girl has got some issues, doesn't she?
"I-I said I wouldn't- oh, this is bad, this is so, so bad-"
"What's bad about it? Quinn? H-Hey-" She gets up abruptly, breathing fast and immediately starts pacing back and forth, hands trembling as they run through her hair. "It can't be that bad! Even if their pirates, you're all friends, right-?"
"No! You don't u-understand- I'm not supposed to be here and, and, and- I can't care. I just can't. Because, if I do, and everything goes the way its supposed to-" Cinnamon stands up and tries to corral her back down, tries to ease her breathing into something more manageable but has no success because there's something even more stressed and horrified coming over Quinn's face because it has tears brimming to the point where she can practically see how uncontrollable they are and- "I know I mean nothing in this story, so it doesn't matter to anyone if I care but- but it matters to me."
Her voice cracks on the last little bit and she blinks furiously to rid herself of the tears.
Yeah, Cinnamon has no idea how to make sense of any of that.
"I-I think you're having a panic attack."
"No, really? I wonder what gave it away!" She sucks in a choked breath and then curses. "Oh, g-god."
"I think you should lay-"
"Do not tell me what to do right now." Quinn heaves herself back to the wall and places her hand on it, eyes squeezing shut. Cinnamon fluttering away with worry. "Okay. Okay… okay. I'm… fine. I'm fine."
"Are you?"
A pause.
"...fuck no!"
She's trembling and shaking as she slowly falls onto her knees, head banging into the wall.
"Feels like nothing-"
"That's good right-"
"No! It feels like there's nothing-"
Oh. Well. Cinnamon doesn't know what to do. So she sits back down and waits, listening to the panicked sounds of Quinn's breathing as minutes tick by and it gets worse before it gets better. And, once it finally does, "Do you want me to get your Captain-?"
"No, oh, wow, no." She groans. "That's the last thing I need right now. 'Cause he'd just get worried and blame himself or something stupid and- no. I- I'm good now. Well, not good but…"
"I get it."
"...thank you."
Funny, Cinnamon doesn't feel like she's done much of anything. Much less something actually helpful. "For what?"
"For staying."
She shrugs.
And Quinn carefully monitors her own breathing and the beating of her heart as she leans back to stare at the night sky. "I don't know if you can tell. But I'm not very good with emotions. Or people."
"Honestly, seeing you, I think you're too good with your emotions." It gains a confused look. "Only someone with an ironclad handle on their emotions to keep calm like you did before. It just- this was clearly a really bad moment."
"Clearly."
"The people thing though. That's definitely true." Cinnamon giggles at the flat expression. "Oh, come on, I think it's kind of cute."
That gains a small chuckle. "Socially stunted and stressed out, that's your type then?"
Cinnamon eyes her, small smirk rising at that curious tone. "Well…" Quinn's gqze shifted from the stars to her. "They are the ones usually just looking to blow off steam so-!"
"Kinda gal that likes no strings attached, huh?"
"No strings. Don't have to worry about anything getting tangled up. It's easy and simple, don't you think?"
Quinn laughs.
It's lighter than it was before, where it had been dark and heavy and with a wheezy quality, this was much more breathless and a tad hopeful. Especially as she peeled herself off the ground and offered a hand down to Cinnamon, "Ah, well, there's no accounting for taste." Glad that, once she was up, there was no need to pause and think, just simply be dragged along by her good hand.
The party continues well into the next day.
-0-
"Is he not coming?"
The disappointment is falling off him in waves, to the point that Ace might as well be colored blue for just how depressed he looks as he asks the inevitable question that had been on his mind for the past hour.
"Really?"
"There, there." Quinn pats him on the back. "You can't get everyone."
Kat, of course, tries to look on the brightside. "It's okay, Ace! I can catch us plenty of fish to cook up and-"
Oh, now both Quinn and Ace have been completely taken over by a cloud of rejection.
"H-Hey."
It's not that they don't appreciate his efforts. They really do. But Kat only knows how to prepare fish two ways- sushi, that's really only safe for him to eat, and completely bland, cooked over a fire and on-a-stick. For a few days, that's manageable.
The thought of doing that forever?
Ugh.
"Quinn, do you know how to cook?"
"Eh. Yeah." Ace perks up with such wide eyes, innocent with his hopefulness, that she feels bad for crushing it all in the next second. "I can't really cook seafood though."
He mopes. Like, visibly and dramatically too. Quinn watches him drape himself over a large rock next to the docks and curl in on himself and everything. She has to strain her ears but she still hears the mutter under his breath. "What kind of person doesn't know how to cook seafood…?"
And throws up her hands. "Well, I'm sorry, Ace! Where I'm from seafood is a delicacy!" For the most part. "All the food I'm used to is from, like, cows, chickens, and pigs-"
"Tch." Ace looks away, pinky digging into his ear. "I keep forgetting that you used to be a noble."
Kat chokes on air as Quinn's face turns bright red and her jaw drops, struck at a loss for words. "I- Wha- I'm not- You-" She sputters before it all comes to a head and she sneers at him. Oh-ho, that's got her pissed. "I'm not a noble! Never was! Never will be!"
Ace doesn't really look like he believes her.
She looks to Kat for help.
He makes a face. "...Well, uh. You d… did just say that you came from a place where- where you only ate the most expensive of…" He quickly falls silent as Quinn gapes, looking betrayed. Kat sweats. "Everyone knows that seafood is the easiest and cheapest to buy! Farm animals… Farm animals are the most expensive. Even if I wasn't pescatarian, I don't think I've ever even had a chance in my life to buy pork of all things…"
There's a look of realization that falls over Quinn and they incorrectly believe its her realizing her status as an ex-noble and not- not her realizing-
Realizing that pepperoni would be a delicacy in this world because even pigs were few and far between considering that an island would have to be virtually self-sustaining to even have enough farm animals for it to be a regular staple of a diet for any of the people here. As fresh meats would get gross being sent from island to island by ship unless they were dry-aged.
("Oh my god, they have to have pizza still right? Right?!")
(They do, in fact. Still have pizza.)
-oh, she wants to think about literally anything else.
But the only thing Quinn can do is wheeze out a pathetic, "I'm not a noble!" And dig herself further and further down a rabbit hole because even a low-class person from a world in late-stage capitalism would sure as hell sound like something reminiscent of the nobility in this world, wouldn't it? Given that the more common luxuries between worlds were seemingly direct opposites of each other.
It's Kat's turn to pat Quinn on the back. "Hey, it's cool. We don't care that you used to be noble."
"I'm not! I-I haven't-!"
Ace takes one look at her face and has to laugh. He's never seen someone so flabbergasted in his life and to find the look on Quinn's face is enough to have him roaring. Like she couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation right now, as if it'd never been a thought to even cross her mind. "O-Okay, okay, I believe- Chehaha! I believe you." And he certainly was inclined to. "There's no way you were ever a noble if- if that's your-" He falls into an even heavier fit of laughter, completely unable to get out the rest of the words.
Hell, he'd only even brought it up to mess with her really. And see how she responded to it.
"Y-Your f-face is… is too funny-!"
Quinn crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at him, hip cocked.
It's been a few days since they'd burned down the factory. Longer than they'd anticipated on staying but, hey, it's not like they have anywhere they need to be. Not really.
But it'd been more than long enough and it was time to leave.
Even if Ace hadn't gotten a yes from Spice.
Actually, they hadn't seen much of him at all. Cinnamon, when Quinn had asked, had simply smiled and said that he'd been wanting to spend some extra time with her and the rest of their family and hadn't said anything more. Even when all Quinn wanted was an idea of his location so she could point Ace in the right direction so he'd stop moping around in disappointment or- worse- bothering her.
Like what he was still doing now.
Quinn huffs and drags a hand through her hair. "If you really want him can't we just kidnap him or something."
Kat breathes in wrong. "I-I don't think that would work out all that well."
She just grunts.
Eyeing Ace, "It would get him to stop…"
"Again. I- I don't think that-"
"She's joking, Kat."
"Oh! Oh, good. I was worried for a second there…"
Quinn, messing with him now, looks off to the side in the most suspicious manner she can, humming, "Yes… jo-king…"
Kat deadpans at her. "That's not funny."
And receives a laugh for all his trouble. "-Well, if he's not coming, there's no use waiting around. Let's get going." Ace moans pathetically as she tries to coax him off his rock of moping. Going so far as to lick a finger and jab it directly between his ribs. "C'mon, Ace. There's a whole couple seas of people out there, we can find someone who doesn't have a family- hey, c'mon, think of all the cool orphans we can bring to the dark side!"
Kat wheezes sharply. "That- That- I don't want anyone to hear this conversation out of context. What would they think?"
"It's true though."
It kinda is.
"Oyyy-!"
They all blink as a call rings out from the distance.
"Oyyyyyy-!"
Louder this time and all three look up to spot a girl with a sling still on running to greet them, "Is that… Salt?"
Quinn grimaces. "She's not joining the crew."
"Okay, first off: I wasn't going to ask. Trust me." Salt huffs, wiping sweat from her forehead as she comes to a sliding stop. "Second… Fair." She winces as she admits at least that much. "That's not why I stopped you though. It's because, well…"
They each raise a brow in unison.
"It's because you're headed down the wrong docks."
They share a glance with each other and, when none of them seem to be able to make heads or tails of that, they turn back to her, heads tilting. "Huh?"
…
…
"Quinn, are you crying?"
"N-No- I just- I got joy in my eyes." She sniffles, hands moving to cover her mouth. And she grabs Ace by the shoulder and shakes him, not carrying when it has him jumping in surprise and his head bursting into flames that he struggles to get back under control. Face split by his own wide, wide grin. "It- It has a shower, Ace! It has- It has a roof!"
Salt puffs out her chest, looking all too proud of herself as Ace stares wide eyed and in disbelief and Kat squeals in excitement. "Our own ship-! I get to finally navigate something better than- than a rowboat!"
"This," Salt begins with a wide grin on her face, "is Sage's Stellar. She's an older ship, made for only a small group, but she's sturdy. Rough seas aren't going to beat her down. Some of the villagers got pointed in the right direction to stock and repaint her." Salt gives a nod to the sail, where a small seat was afixed in a makeshift crows nest and a simple white flag was left to fly. "It's even enough for a proper pirate flag."
Ace lights up more. Quite literally. Laughter and happiness bubbling out alongside his fire and completely unrepentant in his joy.
It's a simple ship. Russet browns and black and dark grey trim. Long and wide with large sails and netting and- it doesn't have the mast to support a proper crows nest but there's a set of metal rods sticking out to act as a ladder up to a simple, one-person seat where someone could sit and wrap their legs around the top. A box and shelf and hook for the small telescope that was hanging up there, room for an umbrella to be placed as well as maybe a small box of tools or a book.
There's a galley. It takes up the majority of the deck. A large kitchenette space on one half, pristine and state of the art- a fridge and stove and- Quinn has to look away at the appliances that are much older models compared to anything in her own world but its similar enough that she can't help her delight. The other half is separated by a bar and the single-cushioned seats bolted to the floor that make up the primary table space-
And the rest.
It's a small area. Half of it is taken up by a simple plush cushioning coming out of the wall that crossed somewhere between a bed and a couch, inlaid atop a line of small storage cabinets and a built-in miniature bookshelf. A loveseat and chair set up across from it, surrounding a small coffee table. The other half is taken up by a door to the bathroom and shower space, hidden at the back of the galley, where there were a small set of lockers for personal effects and clothing and the like. What wasn't taken up by the door was instead taken up by another built in couch-and-bed space, though much smaller than the other one, above which two hammocks were secured. Right next to a ladder in the wall that led straight up to a hatch and, supposedly, to the top of the galley.
"There's storage space up above. For food and boxes and stuff, it's where most of the piping and water systems are hidden too." Salt pointed up it. "It's a bit of a crawl space, since it's not even really as tall as I am, but there's a pulley-system for large boxes and stuff on the outside and doors you can open to shove stuff in. This is mostly just here for a quick grab, to organize, or if you can't go outside."
Quinn bites her lip as she takes it all in.
It's a bright atmosphere. Bright, colorful shades blues accented by soft pinks complementing the brown of the wood well. Homely and cute and quaint, it looked lived in already and she could see that someone had even added a selection of books to the bookshelf already and there was already necessities stored away in the bathroom and a couple pillows and blankets were stacked and just waiting to be used-
Salt grin shakes a little as no one says anything, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's- not much for privacy. Since this room doubles as the living area and sleeping space and, I mean, its like right next to the bathroom too. So you'll probably walk all over each other-"
"It's perfect."
Quinn shuts her down immediately and blinks rapidly as she clutches her bag to her chest, the few things she actually owns hidden within- hell, even her own jacket is more Kat's now anyways, the last relic from her world and she'd essentially given it away, something she can't help but regret a little, even if she doesn't dare want to ask for it back. It's become something important to him, she thinks. When she watches him find comfort in hiding away in it and burying in the cloth too big for him- as she takes in the space that-
That would be their home.
Ace shifts next to her, smile warm but also teasing. "You look like you're going to start crying there, Quinn." He pokes her in the side and watches her jump and scurry away.
"Sh-Shut up. Don't look at me!"
Ace… Ace doesn't know what to say. Not really, as he turns towards Salt. He'd spent a large part of his childhood saving up for a ship and- while no one would look at this ship and think pirate- it was still more than he could have hoped for. Given to him, free of charge. Because-
Because the absolute joy on Quinn and Kat's face, the sheer delight as they both look around and take everything in and- (Quinn is already putting her things in a locker and putting her sewing kit and lockpicks in a drawer. Kat is- is he asleep on one of the bed-spaces already, wow, he's putting Ace to shame with that- anyways.)- all of its so much more than he expected. A crew, a ship, all given to him free and he-
He doesn't feel he deserves it. Not really. And so all he can figure out to do is bow to Salt, low at the waist, and say as strongly and heartfelt as he can manage: "Thank you."
She snorts. "Oh, please. This is just what we owe you for saving all our asses. And for…" She rubs her shoulder. "And, well, for dealing with me, too. I know I didn't make it easy on you all."
"No you didn't!"
Quinn shouts from the bathroom.
Salt shakes her head.
And Ace suddenly has to ask, because this is probably his one chance now that they're really, truly leaving, so he rushes to catch Salt before she can make it all the way down the gangplank and grabs her by her good shoulder: "Hey, wait, apologies for stopping you like this, but…" He has to know for sure before they leave. "Is- Is Spice really not coming with us?"
She makes a face that he can't quite decipher before shaking her head and he sags in defeat before her hand is waving to say no to that too, "I can't speak for Spice. I don't… I've never been good at figuring out what he's thinking but- but if you set out and he's not there, you'll have your answer, won't you?"
He huffs, disappointed. "...Guess I will." Before shaking his head and turning to walk back up the gangplank. "And, thanks, again. I really do mean it."
"I know. You don't have to though. This is supposed to be our thanks."
He smiles, squeezing his hat close as she walks down the docks with a wave, catching the hand of her little sister who he watches cup a hand over her mouth and shout, bothering the dog next to her, "Hey! Pirate-man, thank you and bye-bye!" He can't help the chuckle as he waves and there's a pause. "By the way, I think you're really pretty-!"
He chokes.
"Pepper!"
"What? It's true!"
An awkward laugh escapes him as they disappear around a building.
"Hey…" Ace stops, looking up at the tentative voice that calls out to him, still trying to figure out whatever the hell that was all about as he takes in the sight of Spice's eldest sister.
Apparently, he was going to see everyone but the man of the hour today.
"I- sorry to bother you, especially when you're just about to leave, but I have to ask…" She seems nervous, shifting from foot to foot and talking in a quiet tone that, even if he didn't know her all that well, he could realize that it was unlike her. He raised a brow. As far as he knew, her and Quinn had become something of friends over the past few days, as he'd seen the two of them hanging out every other hour talking about something or other. "Is that pretty crewmate of yours okay?"
He blinks. Squints a bit, before asking, "...Quinn?"
"Who else?"
She seemed flabbergasted that he even needed the clarification but, to be fair, he didn't know why she didn't just say Quinn in the first place. She's shaking her head a second later. "But yeah, is she… like, is she okay?"
He swallows, glancing towards the galley where he can hear Quinn laugh at finding Kat asleep. "...Yeah. I think so?" A pit of worry starts to build in his stomach. "Why do you ask?"
Did something happen?
He starts to scan the shore and cramped buildings of Hunting, hoping that a clue might fall out. Or perhaps an enemy to blame.
Instead, all he gets is Cinnamon seemingly confused on how he wouldn't know. "Her… arms."
Immediately he feels relief wash over him. "Oh! You mean her wrist. Yeah, the doctor said she'd have to wear the cast for awhile but-"
"No."
He trails off.
"Her… arms. And her legs." Cinnamon blinks, as if she's saying the most obvious thing in the world. "I- You don't know? Beneath her… sleeves…" She says the word with a sudden realization and looks mortified as her mouth drops open. "D-Does she always wear them?!"
Ace feels that pit return and grow even deeper.
"...Yeah?"
"...oh." Evidently the wrong answer because Cinnamon falls silent for such a long time that he starts to sneaks glances back towards the galley before- Ace jumps and the struggles to reign in his fire as her hands suddenly clamp down on his shoulders and she gives him such a hard and intense staredown that he's left wondering if she's going to try and throw him into the shallows below. "You watch over her, got it? Make her smile. A pretty girl like that doesn't deserve to be sad."
"...Hah?"
Cinnamon pauses, like she might say something profound, voice barely above a whisper. "No, she's not just a pretty girl-" She says reverentially. "She's a beautiful woman. And beautiful women don't deserve to be hurt or to despair, not like that. Not like what I… saw." Ace stares, mouth falling open but she doesn't even give him the chance to try and get a word in because the intense gaze only deepens and he takes a step back as she leans too far in. "Watch her. Make sure she's actually happy, okay? People like her- They're way too good at keeping a handle on their emotions when they don't want others to see- but when they can't hold them in anymore… that's when they need someone the most to see them, okay?!"
Cinnamon suddenly jerks back and the intense look is gone and replaced with a tight smile.
"Cin?"
Ace, heart thudding in his chest, glances behind him to spy Quinn looking curiously down at them both. Looking unimpressed as she frowns at them. "What're you two doing?"
"Oh, nothing much." Cin smirks. "I had a question for your Captain but, as it turns out, he didn't know the answer either."
Quinn stares, gaze turning bland as she bites her lip and then lets them purse. "Yeah, I didn't hear a word you said before I came out, but that's the most obvious lie I've ever heard."
"Not technically a lie actually! It just got a little out of hand is all but I set it all straight."
"There's nothing straight about you." Quinn says reflexively, then eyes Ace and frowns when he turns his gaze away, hands raising as she turns to walk back inside. "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. I'm going to go wake up Kat so we can actually head out for real this time."
Ace glares at Cinnamon out of the corner of his eye. "...What the hell did you see?"
"Nothing I can tell you."
He glares harder, fist clenching.
"Seriously. You- Quinn should come to you herself. I was just an accident so it's… not my story to tell. I really don't know more than you but- If she truly does wear those sleeves all the time-"
"She does. But what does that have to do with-"
"-then, when she's comfortable enough to take them off for you all, you'll see it for yourself." Cinnamon warns all of a sudden, "But don't push it. It's not something you should ever force out of someone. Just… Make sure you watch her okay? The sea can be a lonely place if you let it be."
He scowls. "If something is hurting my crew-"
"Everyone's entitled to their secrets. I'm sure you yourself have a few." He bites down on his tongue, knocking the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes and takes another step back. It's a flinch. It's masked but- To Cinnamon who's used to reading body language instead of expressions, it's telling. "A good Captain can respect his crews'."
He grits his teeth but nods. He… has to agree to that. Because she's right, even if Ace is worried and she's planted a seed of fear in his chest. "Just watch her. You're smart, at least that's what she tells me," he flushes, "I think you'll be able to pick out the right things."
She's nodding then and walking away as Kat hops outside, a smile on his face and wrapped up in Quinn's jacket, leaving Ace to simply watch her back as she follows after where her sisters disappeared off to. "Hey, Ace! Are we leaving for sure now?"
It takes a moment too long for him to answer and he doesn't miss the suspicious look Quinn tosses his way. "...Yeah. Yeah, it doesn't look like Spice is coming."
"Too bad. I liked that guy."
It takes them awhile to get used to using the larger ship and Quinn shows off her lack of knowledge by repeatedly asking questions and for clarifications and-
"What the hell do you mean it's this rope? I thought you said it was that one!"
-and soon Hunting and Starving and Nest and the whole of the Twin Isle's is nothing more than a dark spot on the horizon with a thin trail of dark smoke rising up from it.
"Hey, Kat! Did you already put your stuff away in your locker?" Quinn calls from where she's taking inventory, taking immaculately organized notes in a small, empty booklet she'd discovered alongside a few blank journals on the bookshelf. "I know Ace hasn't yet."
"No! I just put my bag on the bed for now."
There's a moment of silence, the squeak of a locker shutting and the bathroom door opening and- well, they're out on deck but they can still hear the huff of surprise Quinn let's out as she walks back into the galley. "...I think we have a friend!"
Ace and Kat share a glance before rushing inside and gaping at the tall frame in a simple white button up and black slacks. A lazy smirk drifting across his face as he washes his hands, pulls out a pan, and clicks a cameko as he documents all of their reactions, "So… any requests?"
The cheer is loud and simultaneous.
"Spice!"
-0-
"It's omurice."
He gives his mother a flat look, all seven years of his entire being drilling her with a hard stare as she rolls her eyes and bounces his two year old sister- Cinnamon- on her knee. "...I don't know if you know this, Mom, but that's a pretty common dish to. Hm. I don't know. The whole world!"
"It is." She confirms, unbothered by his attitude.
He pouts. "I wanted to cook something special with you! S-Something that's-"
"Omurice is special."
"No, it's not! I could ask anyone on the street and they'd know how to cook omurice! I want to cook something that's not common-"
"Just because it's common to you and me, doesn't mean that it's common to everyone." She hums and opens the cookbook again. "And just because you ask everyone on the street, doesn't mean they'll always give you the same answer. Go on. Flip through the pages."
He scowls but does as told.
"Notice something?"
"It's… It's all omurice."
"And what's different about it?"
His frown lightens a touch. "The island name… and the… instructions… and… everything?" He flips through the pages again. From back to front there's instructions on nothing but different versions of omurice.
"Just because we perceive something one way, doesn't mean that others don't see it in another." She smiles. "It's not about the rareness of the dish. It's about your intent to learn and understand it. Besides, for all you know, you might meet someone who's never even heard of omurice before and maybe they'll have a dish that they can't believe you've never heard of. It's all about perspective."
Spice scoffs, "No way. I've heard of almost every dish there is. There's no way they could know about one if I've never heard of it before!"
She flicks him on the forehead and his sister giggles, small hands clapping over her mouth. "Don't be a brat. You'll set a bad example for your sister."
"What? No I won't!"
He proceeds to stick a tongue out at his mother and then blinks in surprise when Cinnamon copied him back.
"Oh, you won't, will you?"
"H-Hey, I- I didn't say to copy me!"
His mother snorts. "Well, as punishment, I guess you'll just have to choose an omurice to prepare."
"But I-"
"No buts!" She claps her hands. "Off you go, I'll be supervising, but it'll be your own fault if you burn yourself. You have to learn to be careful and- You had better wash your hands first before you even think of touching that fridge, Spice!"
"I'm going, I'm going…"
He grumbles as his mother sighs and goes back to bouncing Cinnamon up and down. Watching as her son decided on a Special Omurice from a West Blue area and set all the ingredients on the counter before only glancing at the instructions once before starting. She snorts as he looks down and panics halfway through once he realizes he's accidentally skipped two steps and is too late to pre-prepare the additional ingredients they like to add in the West and-
Overall, it's a disaster.
And she really can't stop smiling as a teary Spice presents her with his dish and nearly punches the counter in frustration as she takes a bite and says, "It was good."
He's sniffling within seconds, trying his best to not cry. Oh, her sweet boy, he was terrible at controlling his emotions and she loved every second of watching his cute self go through all his anger and frustration. He just so reminded her of when she was young.
"B-But it came out terrible- why are you saying that its-"
She smiles at him.
"Spice, do you know what my reputation as a chef is?"
"I- of course," he then recites, "The Sage of the East! The amazing-chef that has gathered the most variety of dishes from all across the world, known for only ever consuming food that… that tastes good…" He frowns down at the floor, brows scrunching. "But then- then why did you eat mine…?"
"I'll let you in on a little secret, my dear Spice." She winks. "It's because you tried."
"I don't…"
"All food can be good food. If you just try." She smiles. "Honestly, that title is a bit misleading. I don't eat food because I find it good or bad or anything in between. I eat food because I can taste the potential."
"Huh?"
"The potential for a dish to be made, for a combination with these ingredients- if someone is truly trying their best, trying to learn and improve… that is the food that I want to eat. Because, even if it's bad, I can see what that person can become in the future." Her eyes sparkle and she juggles Cinnamon onto her hip as she leans down to poke Spice on the nose. "And you? I can see nothing but the makings of a great chef in you."
"B-But… I… I was arrogant. I barely tried…"
"Hm, not at first, true. But about halfway through, you started to realize that, didn't you? And you tried to fix your mistakes instead of leaving them to fester. You made mistakes, you tried to fix them, and now you've learned from them. If that isn't trying, I don't know what is."
He sniffles and rubs his face into his arm.
"Th… Thanks…"
"It's no problem. You want to be a chef don't you? Like me?"
"...Better than you."
She laughs.
"I'll… I'll write books and everything. With pictures. It'll…" He sniffs. "It'll make your books look like pocket change."
She laughs harder.
Oh, her boy was a riot!
"You'll probably have to go off to sea to pull that off." He nods and, if anything, only looks more determined. "Okay, well. I can't wait to see that day."
"...So how good was the omurice really?"
"Oh, it was absolutely terrible."
"...I knew it."
She laughs until her stomach hurts and Cinnamon is confused by what's happening and, when she looks up and takes in the sight of her pouting son, her eyes are so filled with unbridled life that it seems to light up the very room.
.
.
.
If you said that Tiberius poisoned Spice's mother, you were ~correct~!
Also, yes. Cinnamon x Quinn was a thing. (Cinnamon is aromantic lesbian if you want specifics.) And now they're friends. Bonds of sadness, people. *clap clap* I was always planning on having Quinn kill someone this arc, the who and the how is what varied- because she really needs an eyeopener to the life she's found herself committed to. Which is why she apologized to Ace for not being a good crewmate, she wasn't as serious about it as he was, for multiple reasons, so she made mistakes because of it. (Her mindset was stuck in the silliness of East Blue when it should've been in the Sabaody Arc).
They have a ship! One not quite as impressive as the Going-Merry but they can have a flag now! That's cool, right? Everyone is very happy with the Stellar.
And, also, Spice! Who joined! And, because he's dramatic like that, he had to make it a whole thing.
