The biggest ever thank you's to these cool cats: Mai Kusakabe, sweetlilsunshine, Shiningheart of Thunderclan, bleck, TurtlesAreFast, CameronEmma, Yami Krismiya, Rumu, R'ansi, Sheep, Girl-luvs-manga, dab-of-paint, heyy, VodkaThief and a fan.
—
methyl nitrate pineapples
hypothesis #9
a kettleful of sunflowers
—
"Are you sure you don't want t' join?"
"Mm."
"They were really lookin' forward to meetin' you."
"Mm."
"Canary-chan, you've done nothin' all day but stare out the window. And you did some interior decoratin'…" The entire floor was covered with drawings of the peptide hormones in the human body. Altogether, it made a complicated labyrinth in the form of a giant smiley face. "…How'd you even do that?"
"I made my own chalk. Limestone and clay."
Draped over the dilapidated sofa, Sophie watched an upside-down Nellie blink at her. Her eyes dropped lower. Two perfect oxygen molecules.
"Ain't my house, I don't care. Let's go."
She grabbed Sophie's arm and hoisted her off the sofa. "Noooo, I want to brood. Can't I eat somewhere else?"
The dingy little kitchen was crowded with people; Romarin chatted with them as Sid set the table. As she entered behind Nellie, their eyes shifted to her and they began clapping. Someone patted her on the back. "Good to see you," a woman with an eyepatch said grinningly. There was a moment in her life where Sophie would've loved the attention (okay, most of her life), but now she just wished she had more hair to hide behind.
"You were right about her eyebrows," a man with a square jaw said to Romarin, pumping Sophie's hand. "I've always said a fine pair of eyebrows makes a good hero."
"Thanks. All natural bushiness."
"Hah! She's funny, too." He slapped her back. Well, she tries, Sophie thought. Why did everyone keep hitting her back?
Another man appeared by her elbow. She recognized him almost immediately—he was one of the men at the Tournesol, the ones Romarin pointed out to her, walking beside Jacques Straw. His crooked teeth smiled at her.
Sophie quickly took a seat beside Nellie and Sid as they passed around potatoes and roast chicken. From eavesdropping she found out the man's name was Couthon, and he was a powerful figure in the rebellion. He sat across from her, talking amicably with the man with the square jaw about the Heart Pirates. She arranged her potatoes with two X's for the eyes and a flat line for a mouth.
Speaking of the pirates, were they planning on leaving soon? Would it be weird to try to talk to them? Did Law finally start his own fashion line, Haus of Trafalgar?
'Most likely' suited all the questions. Sophie pushed her potatoes around sullenly. They were nomads of the ocean with no ties to anybody. She already said her goodbyes and made her peace. Law was the sort who sparked someone's curiosity every island he traveled to, and there were probably pieces of them collecting dust in the dark depths of his storage closet. She just wasn't one of them, that's all. She was smarter than that.
As the night dragged on, the kitchen was getting louder and drunker. After the initial novelty of Sophie wore off, the conversation kept turning to Romarin. The old woman was glowing, totally relaxed as she bantered back and forth. The two Crawfishers by Sophie's side weren't doing too badly, either. Personally, she was only staying for the food.
"So, Sophie, when did you join the World Government?" the woman with the eyepatch asked.
"I, uh, never technically joined. I was, um, born into it."
Couthon wiped his mouth. "Then why are you traveling with the Heart Pirates?" It was a perfectly reasonable question. She imagined stabbing his jugular with her fork and didn't reply.
Most around the table were too absorbed in their own discussions to notice her unrestrained glaring… except for Nellie, as usual. "Try the chicken."
"It's dry," Romarin said thinly. Nellie looked pointedly at her mother. She sighed and tapped her fork against her cup. "A toast for Jacques Straw and to the departed who couldn't be with us on this warm night."
Murmured agreements came around the table, punctured by heavy sniffling. Sophie raised her own cup. "And a toast to the princess who was disinherited and thrown out of her home by the very people she fought for."
The table went silent.
Romarin coughed. "A toast to reunion with old friends and family."
"A toast to deportation and having no family at all."
"Is she drunk?" someone whispered.
No, she was just feeling extremely hostile. And yes, maybe a little. There wasn't much else Sophie had been doing that night.
The side of Couthon's mouth curled irritably. "Didn't the Marines train some manners in you, girl?"
"If by manners you mean standing up to jerkbutts, then, yes."
He slammed his palm on the table. "I will not be attacked with childish insults!"
She got to her feet so fast her chair banged on the floor. "Would you rather I carve it out on your stomach instead?"
The silence was shocked and horrified. It was a long time since she wrecked a social event this badly—although it was their fault as much as it was hers! Behind her, she heard Nellie say, "Dinner's over. Everyone, please get out."
Sophie huddled up on an overturned barrel in an alley beside the house and lit a cathartic cigarette. Anatole was livelier at night. Celebration noises echoed down the street.
Fine, she'd killed a few of Khanwari's soldiers. But that was their job—they'd been prepared for it, and they were armed as well. Besides, she wasn't strong enough to hold back during fights. It was all out or nothing. What Couthon did was different. Law could argue all day long about how 'death is always the same', but Sophie was sure it wasn't so black-and-white. Thinking about this was frustrating. She didn't want to change the world. Breaking out into arguments over dinner wasn't fun. Then again, the little voice in the back of her head prodded, it wasn't like anyone else was going to deal with this problem. How messed up was that?
She… didn't actually know. Everything she thought was right or wrong was just her regurgitating a list of rules the World Government signed, stamped, and bow-tied. G-13 defined her whole life. Who was she now? What was she supposed to believe in? Science, she thought glumly, loyalty. Those were her two biggest foundations. And look how far they brought her.
Sophie supposed she could always join a traveling circus. Rig up the colorful smoke and stuff.
Something clattered by her feet. A cat sprang past her and she relaxed… until she noticed the much larger shadow. Couthon staggered into the alleyway.
"I don't know what you think you saw, but it's not true."
Sophie exhaled smoke through her nose. "You're drunk. Go home."
He raised a gun at her.
Great. Let the record show he started it.
She groaned. "Really? Why don't you threaten me with something more creative, like a hedge trimmer? A slice of cheese? Even Law-san could stretch his imagination, not many people would consider death to foot by injection. Have some fun with it. Branch out more." Sophie picked up the nearest heavy metal object. "For example, have you ever thought about how effective a trash can lid thrown at, say, thirty miles an hour could be?"
"Well," he admitted, slurring a little, "no."
She shrugged. "How about we find out?"
—
Sophie had finished tying up a clothes line when the door knocked. Wrapping a towel around herself, she hid Couthon's flintlock under the mattress and dumped the dirty water out the window before unlocking the door. Nellie carried a change of clothes. "Just what y' asked for."
She thanked her while stuffing an oversized blouse over her head. Nellie laid out the rest on her bed and flopped on it. Definitely tipsy. And she still looked like she stepped off the cover of a magazine. How did Nellie do it?
"Couthon is a bastard an' a half," she muttered.
Sophie toweled off her hair. "It doesn't matter anymore. Can we forget about the dinner?"
"Please," Nellie groaned, hugging Sophie's pillow. "There's a Crawfish ship sailin' back tomorrow to make sure the seriously ill get help. I can pull a few strings with the captain… if y' wanna leave."
"Thanks, but I still have something I need to do."
She sat up. "Is it about the Heart Pirates?"
"…Surprisingly, no."
She nodded in poorly-disguised relief and watched Sophie, moon-bleached by the light from the window. "You've changed, Canary-chan." Her shadow laughed, because that was undeniable. Nellie took it as disbelief. "Really, y' have. I should start calling you Crow. Matches your hair. Hell knows this place has enough of 'em…"
Deeply unsettled by that remark, Sophie covered her head with the towel. "I like my real name better."
"C'mere—" Nellie grabbed her wrist. "No, sit down! Sit. Yes. Good. Sid made puddin' that no one ate because I kicked 'em all out. My ma threw a fit. She's so different from what I remember. 'First thing I'm gonna do is get hitched again! Helene, you should do the same'! Ugh. Good for her for sortin' out her priorities …" She frowned at the ceiling. "No, really, good for her. I don't even know what I'm gonna eat for breakfast. I don't even know what day it is."
"We're adults. We do adult things. You rescued a kingdom from basically eating itself." Sophie started to feel extremely protective. "Do whatever you want, you deserve it."
"Hell yeah, I do. I don't wanna get married again. That shit was too stressful first time around."
"Pfff. Parents, amirite." Sophie thought of Law. "Parents and boys."
Nellie slapped her arm. "You. Hey, you," she kept hitting Sophie, ignoring her 'ow, what, stahp', "you, look at me. Look. Look at me. The first thing you do if a boy comes onto you an' you don't want that, you eat him. Remember this. But if you do want it, then you do it, an' then eat him. It makes no difference in the long run."
Sophie absorbed that information. "But what about pudding?"
"Puddin'," Nellie said seriously, "is the priority."
—
The ruined pieces of Anatole tumbled together like an iron and rose garden. She wished she could've seen them explode into smithereens. Basking in images of liberating fiery destruction, Sophie's gaze was drawn to a man wearing a sunflower cockade strolling down the street. Hm. It seemed they were heading in the same direction.
Four blocks later Sophie entered a bar, scuffing mud off her boots and smoothing her bangs down. Loud, cheerful voices faded away as she walked past.
"One beer," Sophie told the bartender.
"Free of charge for you, Sophie-san," she called brightly. "Coming right up!"
She turned to sit at the counter, and froze. Mangoes. In the corner of the bar counter, exactly where she was heading, Penguin and Law were drinking by themselves. Even mangoeser, they had noticed her. And the mangoest part, the other customers called out, "Sophie-san, sit with us! Share a drink or two!"
"Um… I was actually… meeting…" She pointed to the general direction of the area slightly above the pirates' heads. "Maybe some other time!"
Sophie dusted off the empty seat beside Penguin and sat down. Not meeting their eyes, she grabbed a few napkins and started cleaning off the flintlock. "Must've been some brawl," Penguin said to her.
"It's nothing. I lead a sanitary lifestyle," Sophie said primly as the bartender set down a tall, foamy glass of beer.
"You have blood on your dress." Law peered around his crewmate. "Judging by the angle and shape, it doesn't seem to be your—"
"I'll wash it when I get back to Nellie-san's place." Sophie wiped the foam from her upper lip. "I feel fine. Excluding being around my present company. Oh, hello, little thing!"
An oblivious cat was sleeping on the bar counter. Delighted, she reached out to pet it. The cat sprang up, all it's fur sticking out as though it had been electrified, and venomously hissed at her.
Offended, Sophie hissed back.
Law looked skyward. "Don't martyr yourself on my account."
"You're overestimating me. I would do very little on your account," she said pleasantly and mouthed over her glass, Wasn't talking about you.
Unfortunately caught between them, Penguin coughed and held his cup up. "This could possibly be the nastiest shit I've ever tasted. What about you guys?"
The bartender shot him a dirty look.
"Ah, it can't be your free-of-charge fan club?" To the rebels, Law smiled his stupid disarming evil mock-smile of evil…ness.
"Is someone jealous?" she muttered.
He pointed to his own beer. "This is my third on the house. In fact—bartender, another one."
She barely restrained herself from kicking the wound he got from Odin. Actually, she missed and caught Penguin's leg instead. He yelped. "I'm just here to get a little buzzed. I'll be on my way in precisely three hundred seconds, think you can not be such a durian for that long?"
"Depends if you stop bothering me with that sound coming out of your mouth," Law fluidly replied.
"That's my voice."
"Precisely."
"…I bet you practice these insults in front of the mirror every day," Sophie said into her glass. When backed into a corner, aim low. Hippo's etiquette lesson number five.
"Yooo," Penguin interjected.
"This conversation is beneath me," Law drawled, but leaned across the counter all the same.
She met his glare with fierceness, but there was some strange familiar comfort with that. This was comfortable territory. "As well as everything else, apparently."
"Chose your words carefully. I haven't harmed you yet—"
"Any more than you already have," she corrected, lighting a cigarette.
Law plucked it from her mouth and dropped it into the beer of a passing customer, continuing, "But that can change very quickly."
They had all but forced Penguin off his chair. He went back to his drink, miming vomiting noises every few seconds. Law and Sophie ignored him.
"You know what I find vastly foolish about you?"
She tossed her hair back (the curly mass hit Penguin in the face). "Aside from my voice, my job, my wide-eyed Pollyanna idealism? Surprise me."
"What's your problem with hanging around rebels when you've been traveling with pirates? More of us are wanted by the World Government."
Okay maybe he was being serious. Sophie tapped the counter, debating whether to tell him. "…I'm going to say something and you aren't going to laugh and the World Government has nothing to do with it—"
"Doesn't it always?" he said knowingly, smirking.
"Please don't confuse me with some Absolute Justice nut. You're the first pirates I've met in my life. But before you, I've had three months of bad experiences with the Revolutionary Army, and I'm kind of still not over that—not out of pro-World Government reasons, but because of… they-really-hurt-me reasons. I don't value pirates over rebels, I value your crew over rebels. I valued that since the night you let me onboard your submarine." Wow, that was embarrassing to say. But Sophie didn't break eye contact. "I don't have any deep-seated personal hatred against pirates." He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, "And I know this isn't a True Fact, capital T capital F, for all revolutions, but this is what I've experienced, so… there it is. Have a nice day."
Beer bottle in hand, Sophie left the bar. She weirdly felt a little better. Condescending Law was sort of therapeutic, who knew?
Law took a deliberate drink and noticed Penguin staring at him. He scowled.
"More booze," Penguin called quickly.
A toilet flushed in the bathroom next to them. Shachi walked out and paused when he noticed the tension. "Did I miss something?" He sat down and made a face. "Gross, my seat's warm."
—
People were always coming and going, informing them of small celebrations, how the injured were doing, and the like. Nellie, Sid, and Romarin had their hands full with one thing or another, leaving Sophie to suffer upstairs, unable to sneak into the kitchen with all the dreaded strangers (and potential conversations) blocking her path. She did, however, hear one disturbing rumor of the Heart Pirates' captain robbing the bodies of dead soldiers.
Meh. She didn't even react to it anymore.
But being left to her own thoughts was stifling. Borrowing one of Sid's hooded jackets (no one seemed to recognize her without her seeing her eyebrows), Sophie walked to the castle and retraced her steps to Lisbeth's bedroom. Part of it was demolished thanks to a mortar shell. Sophie kicked the debris away and brushed off dirt from the bedcovers.
She noticed a thin storybook peeking out beneath the pillow. Sophie picked up The Tale of Apolleon and, for the first time, noted the name of the author. Khana.
This writer lady convinced him to abandon his World Noble life and take back this island for their daughter. Kasimir renamed himself as Khanwari as… what, some sort of tribute? He must've been desperately, insanely in love with her. Or maybe it wasn't love at all. Maybe it was… worship or something. Khana may have been the real monster. Hippo often said the pen was mightier than the sword.
None of this was Lisbeth's fault. But what did it matter now? Her parents were both dead. She had to live with their mistakes. Suddenly furious by the book and how much trouble it'd caused, Sophie hurled it out the hole in the wall. She tripped mid-throw and hit the floor with her face.
…She lay there for a long time contemplating how evil it truly was…
Sophie snuck back in the house long after midnight. The smell of firewood permeated the air. She could hear their voices fluctuate from the not-as-demolished area of the house that served as a living room. No one noticed as she tracked mud up the stairs.
Even while scrubbing away the dirt and blood in the bathtub upstairs, she could hear the indistinct, comforting thrum of their voices.
—
This was not comforting at all.
On the fourth day, cats prowled behind the house. Sophie edgily observed through the window. Why was the conference of fluffy animals in the exact and only place she didn't want them to be? Why didn't they run into her arms instead? Sophie threw the mop aside and plastered herself against the window, telepathically willing the cats to purr at her.
"…gruesome work, but someone's gotta do it," came Nellie's voice from downstairs, diverting her attention. "That crazy loon's been buryin' people alive for years, can you imagine? We're goin' through the city's records, but most of the graves are nameless…"
The cigarette fell out of her mouth. They were digging up the graves?
"What about Khanwari?" Sid's voice asked. "No one's seen a ship leave harbor, they say he's still be here somewhere."
Pineapples pineapples pineapples! She slid down the window with a sick squelching noise. There was only one person who could help her now.
—
"LAW-SAN!" Sophie burst into his cabin.
Law jerked up from his desk, eyes wild. His hair stuck up around his ears.
Without letting him get a word in, she frantically summarized what was happening in Anatole and finished with, "…I know I should've told you earlier but it doesn't matter now and you have to stop them, I stuffed his body in a mostly vacant coffin, mostly vacant because there was actually a pile of bones there and I feel really bad for whoever it was but I had no other choice, and then I borrowed a boat and rowed here except I didn't borrow so much as stole because LIFE IS REALLY HARD—"
"Sophie-ya," he said, and she shut her mouth. "Leave."
"But I—"
"And close the door behind you."
A scream built up in her throat. Violently clawing the air, she whirled around and slammed the door shut.
"Knock," his voice ordered through the metal.
She kicked the door five times. It hurt.
"Come in," he called graciously. Sophie threw the door open to his cool smirk and heavy-lidded eyes. "Was that so hard?"
"LAW-SAN," she wailed. "PLEASE STOP SCREWING AROUND!"
"You shot and killed Khanwari," Law summarized, lacing his hands together, "and you buried his body where excavations are now taking place." He stared calmly at a point over Sophie's shoulder. "…I see how this could be troubling."
"You don't say!"
"I'll take care of it."
"I swear, if I have to shove this submarine up your—what?"
Right in front of her, Law stood up and pulled his coffee-stained shirt over his head. The tattoo on his back and shoulders took up most of her line of sight; his obsession with his jolly roger was heading into bizarre territory. It even distracted her from appreciating (nay, observing!) the flexing of his muscles.
She glimpsed a flash of another swirly tattoo on his chest before he stuffed on a clean black shirt. He picked up his hat and nodachi.
"If they find his body, my crew will be blamed just like at Crawfish Island. I'll be back soon." A blue sphere spun in his palm. "Stay here."
"Don't hurt anyone!" Sophie said helplessly, but he already vanished.
She slumped on the edge of his bed that groaned under the weight of orthopedic books. She was going to die on this godforsaken island.
—
After ten minutes, he still wasn't back.
Law's room was minimal, nothing but the basics, save for the bookshelves on either wall. An entire shelf was dedicated to biochemistry, she was thrilled to see. Beneath that were books of unfamiliar islands and lore. She tugged out a particularly threadbare book stuffed in the very back. A History of Dressrosa. She straightened out the pages and set it carefully in the front.
Now that she thought about it, she didn't really know that much about Law. Did he have any hobbies besides medicine and being sarcastic? His room had a slightly unsettling atmosphere, but it was pretty bland, all things considered (aside from the jars of eyeballs, but that was another thing she'd gotten used to). A chessboard in the corner, a fish tank saturated with books instead of water.
After spending some time going through the shelves trying to find something incriminating, like fuzzy underwear with paw prints, Sophie walked around the desk. He'd fallen asleep reading a book on giants, judging by the little drool puddle on the page.
A necklace chain was halfway hidden behind the cover. She pulled it out.
J141789.
Sophie flipped the burnt dog tag over. Odin / 14 y.o was the only thing still recognizable.
His experimentation was long before her time, but she remembered reading his file. Grew up in G-13's laboratory, where they gave him his tags and moniker. Favored aggression and brute force. Slated for a guaranteed spot in CP9. Bought by a World Noble twenty years ago. Project shut down, records erased. Human experimentation became taboo.
The second tag only had a poorly carved camellia flower. Like a kid had done it.
"Tsubaki," Sophie murmured. It was a terrible mockery, to name him something so beautiful. The old chemical warfare division had some pretty messed-up people before Vice Admiral Lettidore took over.
She should keep the tags. Lisbeth would find her someday, and she'd want them back. Sophie looped necklace around her neck and tucked the ice-cold metal under her collar.
The cabin door opened and she spun around. Law kicked the door shut.
"Oh my god!"
Blood stains covered his jeans—not his, he was walking normally. He set his nodachi down, carrying something in his other hand. "I took care of it."
"What happened!?"
He just looked at her.
"Right… okay." Lightheaded, Sophie sank to the floor. "Um… th-thanks. Thank you."
He turned and revealed what he'd been holding—a bottle of bourbon and a glass. "I was unaware you had the guts to kill a World Noble," Law said, choosing to forgo the desk and stretched out beside her on the floor. She shifted a little bit to the side.
"I mean, he asked that Shichibukai to burn Crawfish Island. I told him I figured it out and was going to help Lisbeth-san, and seeing how his modus operandi is burying people alive…" Sophie shrugged.
He shook his head. "You get in the strangest situations."
"One could say I was… in a grave condition." She elbowed the air.
Law eyed her.
"Good thing you're a doctor, because you could cure my coffin."
He glanced at the bookshelf while pouring bourbon. "You're taking an extremely traumatic incident rather well."
"Of corpse. Who the pineapples do you think I am?"
"I can hear your tell. You tap when you're agitated."
So she was. Sophie forced herself to stop. "Yeah, well… f-fake it 'till you m-make it has become my new motto."
"That working out well for you?" Law offered her the glass and, as Sophie was busy sipping it, tossed the dusty A History of Dressrosa back into the shadows.
She licked the side of her mouth. "I sometimes fall back on my clever wit and dashing good looks."
Law showed her a glint of the top row of his teeth. She supposed it passed for a smile. He drank from the bottle and reclined on the floor, one leg crossed over the other. He was like a big cat or something, completely unaware of his own personal bubble.
Sophie started talking. She told him what Khanwari was trying to accomplish, and everything that led up to the fatal shot (except the part where she tortured him by aiming for painful yet non-vital areas… though Law might've figured that out by looking at the corpse). "Things are going to be so different now," she finished. "I mean, I knew that when I—I made the choice consciously. But it's not like I had a bad life at G-13. No sob stories more than your average genius. I got everything I wanted." Sophie picked at the bandages on her hands. "As long as I did what I was told."
"Sounds like you were part of a cult."
"Says the stinky pirate!"
He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Right. I keep forgetting I don't have to defend them anymore." She took a long drink and absentmindedly shuffled the papers strewn around them. "It was worth it. I'll be on the run for the rest of my life, but I can also choose what to do with my life. And my knowledge is for me only." Nothing like Vira would ever happen again. "I'm thinking fireworks maker or demolitions expert. I can pull off a hardhat pretty well. And I don't have to hate you out of obligation anymore."
"No, you'll simply hate me out of spite."
"Exactly."
Yes, fireworks maker or demolitions expert… somewhere in a sleepy little town in an even sleepier island… there weren't many places in Grand Line where she could hide. Maybe the quietest corner in East Blue. A simple, banal existence…
"…I have another request. Long story short, I need to make a few people disappear."
"You want me to kill them? That's a new low."
"They're already dead." Law already had enough dirt on her to sell her to Impel Down. It didn't really matter now. "Experiment on them or toss them into the ocean, I don't care. I just want them gone. I'm sure you can hide them somewhere beneath all the corpses you robbed."
He shrugged, totally unashamed, and contemplated the ceiling. That was the weird thing about him, it was so hard to tell if he was judging, if he judged at all. "What did they do to you?"
"Not to me. They're just… bad people."
"…I see."
Sophie felt like she had to explain herself. "I mean, I would've loved to sentence them to a lifetime of hard labor at Tequila Wolf. But those men were respected here. People like them. I had to do it. I was here, I knew about it, so I had to."
He shot up and grabbed her hand, appreciating her jolt of surprise as she whipped around. His fingers were cold.
"Fine." The way he looked at her. "Out of the kindness of my black heart, I'll help you out."
Her traitorous brain suddenly thought to the curve of his spine vanishing into the top of his jeans. He was so close she pushed herself against the wall, equal parts flustered and panicked, every muscle in her body tensed to oblivion—and all she could do was stare at him and the blotchy dark stains under his eye and the cracked mosaic of his lips. Her heartbeat skipped.
"Pudding," she said.
"…What?"
Bright red, Sophie ripped her hand away so fast it smacked the wall. "Don't ever again—ow, pain!"
Law drank from the bottle, but she could tell he was smirking from the way his eye crinkled at her. He was acting… different, lately. Instead of being totally apathetic to her wellbeing—he was now treating her like she was a person. Was this… respect from a pirate? She scrambled to her feet, blinking nervously, muttering she had to go back to Anatole. This was too weird. She didn't want to figure him out. She didn't care about his past, or who those eyeballs originally belonged to, or what sort of coffee he drank (black, she knew without asking).
"The murder spree a recent development?" he called as she hurried to the door.
Her hand paused on the handle. She bit her lip to stop herself from grinning.
"If you weren't so stupid powerful, I would've tried killing you a long time ago."
"If you weren't so shrewd, I would've managed to finish the job." Law held up the bottle. "Cheers."
—
Law put a stop to the manhunt, reasoning that if they hadn't found the king yet he probably escaped a long time ago, and wouldn't their resources and time be better spent to help treat the wounded? Sophie didn't know what happened to the king's body, but the excavations continued at the castle and there wasn't a single word about it. She went to the remaining Crawfish ship afterwards and discussed the possibility of them dropping her off at one the islands near the Calm Belt. (But my plans might change, I'm just wondering if it's feasible, she adding, thinking back to the Heart Pirates).
All's well that ended decently, she decided.
That was when the door knocked.
Nellie went to get it, as Sophie was busy jumping up and down, whacking away cobwebs with her broom. The door opened and a lean, fluffy-hatted pirate turned around with a charming grin.
"Good afternoon," Law said pleasantly.
Sophie was so surprised she hit her head with the broom handle. Nellie gasped and stepped back. Before either could say anything, Sophie muscled herself in front of Nellie, gripping the broom like a sword.
"Just visiting." He smiled at Nellie. "Think of this as a… courtesy call with an ally. Shall we have tea?"
Nellie found her voice again after several flabbergasted seconds of blinking. "I… well…" Sophie shook her head furiously, nonononono. "Y-yeah, c'mon in…"
As the older woman went to brew more sunflower tea, Sophie stomped over to Law, who was examining the shabby little house with polite interest. He looked down at the floor and the chalk drawings of molecules Sophie made.
"Peptide hormones. Nice."
"What are you doing?" she practically spluttered.
Law nodded towards the window, where two familiar hats and one familiar orange boiler suit tiptoed around the corner of the house. Bepo carried shovels and Shachi and Penguin dragged a rickety cart over to a big pile of debris in the back of the alley—Sophie's impromptu burial site.
"When I asked you to help me, I didn't mean like this!" Sophie hissed.
"What do beggars say?"
"This isn't what I didn't pay for!"
"My crew is extremely busy and we're leaving the day after tomorrow," Law said with a hint of irritation. "It was either now or never."
"What, you're taking scheduled field trips around the island?" she fired back.
"I believe that was in Shachi's plans for today, yes. Do you want our help or not? I can call it off." He waited expressionlessly, because he had no stake in this and she was totally depending on him.
She grabbed a fistful of Law's shirt and yanked him to her level.
"…Sometimes I really hate you."
"I try my best."
"Tea's ready." Nellie stood by the kitchen door, regarding them with a befuddled frown. Law reverted to his easy, plastic smile.
Sophie immediately pushed him away. It felt like hitting a tree trunk.
"Follow my lead," he muttered under his breath, and walked into the kitchen complimenting the 'wonderful smell'. Sophie hoped there was a traveling circus troupe nearby accepting applicants.
"What brings you to this humble abode?" Nellie passed out two cups of sunflower tea, her back facing the window. Which was good, because the pirates just unearthed a maggot-ridden hand and started poking it.
"I've heard many things about you from Sophie-ya," Law said. "Courageous fighter and spectacular inn keeper." Sophie nodded in support while making mental gagging sounds. "How is Crawfish Island faring?"
Outside, Penguin and Shachi struggled to pull out a body. The arm popped off and sent them flying into Bepo.
"We'll manage. So." Nellie gestured to him with her steaming tea, somehow not spilling a single drop. "Where ya from, Trafalgar?"
"Pirates call the ocean their home."
Sophie tapped her knee, watching Bepo accidentally decapitate Couthon. Great evasion. Ten points.
"Uh-huh. How long have you been a pirate?"
"A long time." He suddenly switched subjects. "Sophie-ya told me you—"
"No, no, I'm not done with the questions," Nellie said swiftly and took a sip of tea. Through the window, Shachi waved at Sophie with the corpse's arm. Penguin thumped him in the head. "Tell me about your relationship to Canary-chan."
Sophie tried to drown herself with tea. This wasn't happening.
"We are temporary allies. There's nothing more to say." Beside him, she nodded… though not as fervently as she could have.
"Excellent," Nellie said, though she wasn't smiling.
Outside, crows landed on the pile of corpses. Shachi and Penguin tried shooing them away, to no avail. More appeared from the sky. Sophie kicked Law's ankle. Crows swarmed over Shachi and Penguin as they fought for their lives. Bepo ran at them, waving a broken saw.
Nellie frowned. "What was that?"
"Look at this!" Sophie grabbed Law's wrist and held it up. "Look a-at his… uh… tattoos! Aren't they weird? They're so weird."
Law did some complicated wrist flippy thing and somehow he ended up holding her hand, which he set back on her knee. She could practically feel the let me handle this waves radiating off him. Nellie appraised this interaction with narrowed eyes.
"Are you two sleeping together?"
Choking on air was an actual thing, Sophie discovered. Law's grin immediately strained.
"We aren't," he said.
"WE AREN'T," she repeated vehemently.
"Definitely not."
"I feel like washing my hands just thinking about it."
"Mentally, psychologically, physically, spiritually, and emotionally if I had to pick a fifth—"
"Nellie-san, how could you even—"
"A gross assumption of epic proportions—"
"I WOULD RATHER DIE."
Nellie seemed taken aback with such vigorous denial. "Pardon the accusation." She stood up. "I'll get more tea."
"Wait!" Law said quickly. The exhausted, traumatized pirates were hurriedly shoveling dirt back into the ditch. Feathers stuck out of their boiler suits. "…Sophie-ya had something she wanted to tell you."
She would strangle him in his sleep later. "Law-san has a giant tattoo of his jolly roger on his back. That's pretty weird, right?"
Though he merely looked at her, she got the sense he was deeply offended. "…Expand."
"Not only that, but all your shirts have your jolly roger on it."
"As a Heart Pirate, and especially as their captain, it would be ridiculous of me to not wear it. Why? It shows group morale and inspires confidence."
"It's literally everywhere. If it's a clever way of advertising yourself… oh. I can buy that."
His groan was poorly muffled.
"…Are you sure you two aren't—"
"We aren't!" Sophie yelped, Law snapped.
Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo finally finished loading up the cart and covered the bodies with a tarp. Nellie walked around the table just as they rolled out of the alley. Sophie breathed a sigh of relief and met Law's gaze. He gave her a my-dear-Strangways-ya-let-this-be-the-point-where-your-confidence-in-me-and-my-jolly-roger-is-restored sort of smirk. She grinned back in a shut up kind of way.
Law stood up. "Thank you for the tea." He'd hardly touched it.
"One last thing." Nellie walked up to Law. "I really hope you're not plannin' to make her a pirate."
The sound of Sophie's heartbeat intensified rapidly. His neck suddenly corded with tension, and then relaxed just as quickly.
"Canary-chan has a good life, so don't you go tryin' to steal her away." She poked his chest with a crimson fingernail. "She has a proper job an' a proper home, an' she doesn't need irresponsible people messin' up her future. Especially an all-male pirate crew."
"In that case, you needn't be worried about me."
Sophie actually had to repeat that line several times in her head, and nearly missed the rest of his words—"I agree with your views, besides… piracy is a particular occupation only suitable for particular people." When Law said that, it felt like he was speaking directly to her face. "I have my hands full with enough matters as it is. Have a good evening, Nellie-ya."
Sophie focused on the tea at the bottom of her cup as the front door closed. She didn't know what the worse slap was: the lack of hesitation, or how he didn't even look at her as he said no. Which was fine, because she wouldn't have accepted anyway. There were far too many variables and unknowns, and she'd probably last a week before going crazy or getting killed, and it wasn't the lifestyle she wanted, and… and…
Nellie sat down beside her, repentant. "Sorry if I went a little overboard."
"No, it's fine." Why would she be hurt about it? She wasn't hoping for anything. "Law-san and I, you know… it doesn't matter."
"He's not that bad. Him an' his crew."
No, they weren't. They were going to explore the world and meddle with the World Government and make headlines and somehow inexplicably sail all the way to the end of the Grand Line, One Piece or not. She was going to live out a lonely, miserable existence on the most boring island imaginable with a dozen cats who hated her, and she was going to die alone, and no one would ever appreciate her genius, and she'd never see Hippo again.
"Not that bad," Sophie echoed.
She was rejected before she even sent in the application. Ouch.
—
Her dreams were stuck on repeat. Running and running and running. Fingernails black with dirt. Thunderstorms in her ears. Returning fire. Winning. Adrenaline. Every night it was the same tune, difficult to sleep to, but not a cacophony… except for this night. The record was scratched.
It was a blurry, stream of consciousness sort of thing: they were stationed at Blithe District, a prominently loyalist area. She made note of how perfect her brain had conjured up the setting: her rifle's grip, the stiff band-aids on her jaw, the crackle of a storm on the dusty-tan horizon. All the same. A little girl wearing Lisbeth's face lay on the ground, her cheek swollen orange.
Her bloated, bleeding squad collapsed one by one.
Huh. Even the bomb in her hand was just as she remembered.
Someone jerked her shoulder. Her eyes flew open in panic, and, not even half-awake, Sophie leaped from the bed and smashed her knuckles into—
Nellie lay on the floor, clutching her nose.
Blank shock slammed into Sophie. Her fist froze in mid-air.
And the next instant Sid grabbed the scruff of her shirt and shoved her into the wall. He was yelling at her, but she could only see Nellie—on the floor—
"I'm s-so-sorry, I d-didn't—didn't know—"
"The hell you mean, you didn't know!?"
"Shid, Ah'm fahn," Nellie said through her nosebleed.
Odin's tags were choking her. She fumbled at them, stuttering, "I-I—re-record s-scratched—"
"Why did you hit her?"
"Shid, ish okay!"
In her disorientated state, Sophie did the first thing she could think of.
She ran.
—
"TRAFALGAR LAW! GET OUT HERE!"
Sophie stomped around the deck of the submarine. It was still dawn and her breath came out wet and misty, but she was filled with rage. She wanted to pound a thick ton of metal into cookie dough. She wanted to smother herself in cigarette smoke.
Why coffins? Why did it have to be something as tacky and nightmare-inducing as coffins? Hey, she could go farther. Why rain down fire on a swamp island filled with natural gas? Why stick a syringe filled with parathion into her foot? Why, why, why!?
"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME, PIRATE! WAKE UP AND G-GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE!"
The door slammed open and a haggard, sleep-deprived captain appeared. He was wearing yesterday's clothes. "What," he began, "is wrong with—"
"It's not fair!" Sophie screamed at him.
Law blinked groggily. "…Huh."
"It's not fair! How are you always getting what you want!? You—you f—" Her hands clenched the air in front of her, as though it was his throat. "They should be ch-chasing you off with p-pitchforks and torches! Instead you g-get free b-beer and people l-like you and—and I-I-I'm so p-pissed off!"
"Shut up!" a distant voice yelled from inside the submarine.
"Then hit me," Law rasped.
"Wha…" She screwed her fists tight, her face red. "What the p-p-pineapples are y-you talking about!?"
He rubbed his forehead with his palm. "Free hit. Do it."
"N—no!"
"I can handle it."
"It's not—I-I'm n-not psychotic! I don't have a d-death wish!"
"Last chance."
To him, one of her punches would have less of an effect than a mosquito bite. He wouldn't even feel it. She reared back her fist, putting all her anger behind it, and remembered how Nellie crumpled to the floor. Her face wrinkled furiously, like, god, she was so pissed off and the only thing she felt like doing was bawling.
His flat gaze shifted from the horizon to Sophie as she dropped her fist and crouched down on her knees.
"Why do I keep hurting the extremely few people I care about? Is it a curse?" She looked at the sky. "Are you angry with me!?"
Law closed his eyes briefly in impatience. "Should I ask what you did or do you have someone else to yell at?"
Okay. Maybe she deserved that.
"Socked Nellie-san. Right in the face. I think. I woke up really fast, I couldn't tell what was happening until after I—" A revelation. "I don't feel safe. That's it. I've only been sleeping with a gun under my pillow, and that's not enough, not close to enough. I should get some—some trip wires, a few knives, flash grenades. Sleep right next to the door—next to the window. Whip up some tear gas in the meantime…"
He frowned. "When was the last time you got more than three hours of sleep?"
"In succession?" she asked miserably.
Her rowboat swayed on the waves. Sunrise spread over the ocean like watercolor on canvas.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Hungry?"
…What?
Sophie raised her eyes to his.
"We have cold leftovers and coffee." A corona of gold formed around the black fringe of his hair as he nodded at the door. "Come in if you want."
He started walking without looking back. Partly because he actually extended an invitation this time, and mostly because she couldn't go back to Anatole, Sophie followed. It was pretty much impossible for her to become a Heart Pirate anyway, Law said so himself.
"Hey… what sort of coffee do you drink?" It wouldn't matter in twenty-four hours, so what the mangoes. Carpe diem.
"Black. You?"
"Ten sugars."
The galley and mess were empty. Law prepared some coffee in a vacuum coffee maker and fired up the stove. Out of instinct Sophie stood by the door, beside a towering pile of pots. The galley was cluttered in a thoroughly-lived-in sort of way, from the sauce-stained recipe books to the little remains of spice jars having been spilled and quickly picked up again. Dishes still drying from midnight snacks. Scuff marks on the floor from repetitive turning from counter to stove, counter to stove.
"Captain, when did you switch jobs with Hai Xing?" a voice behind her said. Sophie stepped aside as Penguin entered the galley, yawning. Their eyes met. "Oh… hey."
"Good morning."
"That you screaming outside?"
"I think it was a crow. You know how vicious they can be."
She could've sworn the corner of Law's mouth twitched. Or it was a trick of the light.
"Yeah, you're welcome, by the way." Penguin went to the refrigerator.
Slowly, pirates began trickling in. She tried to keep out of their way. Shachi gave her a high-five when he entered and showed her an epic battle scar he got from the soldiers, and then he was running back out, shouting something about investigating the underground tunnels.
"Captain, are you feeling alright?" a pirate asked nervously.
"Is that really food?" another whispered. "Remember what happened last time Captain had the galley to himself?"
Law waved the ladle at them menacingly. "Do you want to eat or not?"
There seemed to be a sort of ritual chaos to the early morning habits of the Heart Pirates. They all grabbed their own plates and whatever food they could find—cold pasta, biscuits, something grey and mushy Sophie took as porridge. Some filled up their plates and disappeared; others ate where they stood. The galley was constantly moving. She caught snatches of conversations—"Inspecting the ballast tanks in a bit, how's the barnacle thing going?" "Not well, the annoying little suckers seem to double every day…"
"Now this is a rare sight," Manta boomed, staring at Law.
He gave an exasperated why-does-everyone-keep-saying-that exhale. "I'm just warming it up."
"A brain?" Manta queried eagerly.
"Food."
Sophie had to bite her lip to stop giggling. A few pirates drowsily shuffled by her with toothbrushes stuffed in their mouths. Anko came tramping in gargling mouthwash, "Bafroom is awways too dahn crahmmed—o hei Sohwie-hwan!"
When Hai Xing limped in, the whole galley burst in applause. According to Manta, that'd been happening everywhere Hai Xing went since he woke up yesterday. Laughing, Anko smacked Hai Xing on the back and threw him into a bowl of raw Sea King meat. That had also been happening as well.
Hai Xing met her gaze (maybe; it was hard to tell underneath his hat) and nodded at her. She drew a happy face in the air with a spoon. He didn't smile. It was worth a shot.
Law handed her a cup of coffee and a plate of leftovers… porridge, some oysters, and fish balls. Sophie wolfed down her plate in record time, barely noticing the bowl of sugar cubes he set by her elbow. Hai Xing went to work at the stoves as the pots started boiling over; he took one look at it and just said to his captain: "…Really?" The galley broke out in laughter, and their captain—Sophie was floored to see—was grinning as he raised hands in apology.
The aloof mystique of Trafalgar Law was dissolving by the second.
I'll leave in ten minutes, she thought, chugging her coffee, and remembered Nellie. One hour. She'd leave in one hour.
Somehow, she ended up spending the rest of the day on the submarine.
Penguin was partly to thank for that, as he began intensely discussing the complicated inner processes of the submarine when she just asked how the oxygen thingamajig worked underwater, and then he started walking, and she decided to follow him. The hallways rang with shouts to recalibrate the log systems already damn it to Roger, followed by explosions of colorful swearing (that immediately stopped when they noticed Sophie's presence). A group of the same pirates kept appearing behind every corner they turned—keeping an eye on her because of suspicion, she reasoned, as Penguin facepalmed and made threatening motions at them.
The engine room was extraordinary. Awed, Sophie carefully ducked under pipes and crept past humming machinery. Wires and buttons, like the capillaries of a heart, crisscrossed the walls. The science, the science! She liked the comfortable, ordinary items here and there—pillows in the crook between two machines, dishes and coffee mugs stacked in the corner, newspaper clippings of the Heart Pirates' exploits plastered on the walls. Two mechanics, who just woke up judging by their sleepy-eyed yawns, were startled at her appearance.
"We're heading up for food," one of the mechanics wearing a green headband said, sparing Sophie a short glance over. "Don't make yourself at home. She staying long?" he asked Penguin.
"She's staying however long your captain's fine with," Sophie replied, her grin full of barbed wires.
Headband laughed. "Or you'd lose your head again, right? We should make a game out of that." She scowled, ears red, totally unfair— "Come back later when we actually have time to show you around," he called over his shoulder.
…How did pirates always manage to catch her off-guard? Were they trained?
Penguin set to work on a valve in silence. Sophie entertained herself by going through the newspaper clippings—was that Bepo on the bottom of Law's bounty poster? Yeesh, that was a lot of zeros...
The polar bear knocked on the doorway, examining the Log Pose. "Captain says to check on the rudder system."
"Aye."
"I'm the navigator," the polar bear said to Sophie.
Stars appeared in her eyes. "So cool!"
"Bepo, stop trying to start a fanclub," Penguin muttered.
"...I'm the navigator."
"You're sooo cool!"
From the speaking tube, Anko began singing, "You saved me from that soldier, yeah, stuck an arrow in his neck, blood spraying everywhere, yeahhh…"
"He does his actual job well," Penguin muttered, almost apologetically. She was too busy smiling at Bepo while trying to not stare or smile too widely, except she ended up looking like a demented scarecrow.
Bepo waved a paw at Sophie. "Do you fish?"
—
It was late afternoon by the time the Heart Pirates finished stocking up their food stores. Fishing was too troublesome (and worms were slimy and ew), so she rolled up her sleeves and helped Bepo haul up the nets. "I was wondering why the Marines haven't arrived yet," he said, throwing two flopping nets over his shoulder and sniffed them hungrily.
"W-what do y-you want to know?" Sophie grabbed the main net and hurled it on the deck with a thud. She wiped her hands, noticing the sting. Pineapples. Did one of her wounds reopen? "The ships sailed back to Crawfish Island, but they don't have a line to the Marines. Only Gator Town sort of did, but the Shichibukai took care of that."
"What about calling other islands around the vicinity? And then having them call G-13?"
"S-say they called four days ago, the earliest they could've arrived at Crawfish. Accounting for the time it'll take to reach the top, forces available, preparation, and weather, it'll still take another… two days or so for G-13 to get here."
The rest of the pirates headed inside with their loot. Penguin stuck behind, listening to their conversation. "There could be other Marine ships around Alabasta ready to go."
"No," Law said, arriving from below deck. "They won't be able to spare any forces."
He held up a newspaper.
Bepo read the headline and crossed his paws. "We've rescued enough kingdoms for a while. We can let another pirate crew handle Alabasta."
"They're too preoccupied with a civil war on a major economic country whose leader sits in the Reverie. Cat's Eye is one of the least significant islands this side of Paradise. Only the highest chain of command should know the king's true identity, and this news has to pass through everybody else to be heard by them. That won't happen… not until we're all long gone."
"Khanwari left Mariejois," Penguin said. "He left the World Government. Why should they still care about him?"
"They care enough to follow his instructions twenty years later," Sophie pointed out. "He could've prepared for this, have people looking, warned someone. I say we all leave as soon as possible. Vice Admiral Lettidore knows I'm here, he's probably keeping an ear to the ground."
Law nodded. "The Log Pose already locked on to the next island. Tomorrow morning, we raise anchor and set a course to Ruluka." He clapped his hands once, as though to signify the end of the conversation.
She planted her hands on her hips, pensively watching Law. There was still one more thing she'd meant to ask him… it wouldn't stop bothering her and was nowhere near as prying as asking about his past (which she was completely indifferent about, ahem). The pirates were walking inside, but he held back, as though sensing she had more to say.
"This is going to sound out of the blue," she scratched her chin, "but if it's okay, I'd like to see Odin. Specifically, what the people I work for did to him." Even more specifically, the legacy of her division. But Law didn't need to know that.
"You'll see what I did to him as well."
That meant blood and guts and sinew. "Nothing new to me."
He considered her. The lengthening shadows stretched over his face and made him all dark sharp angles.
"Feel free to say no, I just wanted to ask before I leave," Sophie added.
Finally Law said, "Follow."
—
"His vocal chords were removed. The giantification process was a botched job, you can see some of the ligaments appearing shrunken." Law indicated to the muscle mass on Odin's thigh. "Parts of his body couldn't keep up. That's why he appeared to be an abnormally big man, rather than an actual giant. His pain receptors have essentially been shut down to make the agony of his organs growing at different speeds somewhat bearable. I found a lifetime of neurolytic block injections in his bloodstream. It wasn't an experiment the World Government did—it was a mutilation."
He sounded disturbingly cheerful. The smell of death and sweet rot soaked the air.
Sophie walked around the table, finding her gaze drawn to the space between his head and his neck. "He was a kid," she muttered with distaste. "G-13 did this to a kid."
"What is done is done. Don't pity him. All murderers start out as children."
She made a face at his creepy smile. "Gross."
"The last thing he said was the princess' name," he said conversationally, amused by her discomfort.
"But he can't speak?"
"I read his lips right before I cut his head off."
Sophie made herself look at Odin's face and tried to imagine how Lisbeth saw him.
Lisbeth grew up like her. She never went outside her home, only had one real friend who protected her since childhood, and when she did leave her castle to help a cause she believed in, it failed. Now she can never go back. She deserved better, better than this war and her parents and Sophie, better than to see someone she loved killed.
Pity wouldn't help her now. Sophie realized her fingers were biting into her palms and winced.
"I think one of my wounds reopened…"
Law nodded. "For old times' sake?"
With a roll of her eyes, she yielded, "Fine, but the smell in here is too—"
Her knees hit the edge of a bed in the dark sick bay. She sat down hard. Argh, you'd think she would've expected this by now. He scooted up to her on a swirly chair and unwrapped the bandages. The sick bay was so quiet she could hear the faucet dripping. She gazed meditatively at the smooth motions of his fingers.
"Not a lot of people have seen my hands," she said, without really thinking.
"Hm."
"I usually wear gloves. They're kind of horrifying."
"No one should die without a few scars," Law murmured and traced the chemical burn across her palm—fourteen years old, lye accident. Shivers ran up her spine.
She watched the moon rise over the ocean through the porthole, because it was safer than watching him. "W-we're going t-to see her again, you know. Lisbeth-san."
"I don't doubt it. The enemies you make in this line of work are often lasting." He sounded… chillier than normal. Law bandaged up to her knuckles, leaving her fingers uncovered. "What are you going to do when she finds you?"
"Hope I have some personal burial money." Sophie shrugged. "I want a nice big coffin next time. Solid gold. Lined with cushions and maybe a nostalgic chemistry textbook or two." Waiting for the day she'd be assassinated was better than waiting for her wrinkly, decaying death.
"Sounds like you're looking forward to it," Law said, with a soft edge to his voice Sophie probably would've heard if she'd been looking for it.
Her lips twisted in a small grin. "I won't hurt Lisbeth-san again. And you know how stubborn I get about my principles."
He let her hands drop to her knees. "You've killed five men."
"And a Den Den Mushi. To be frank, I feel worse about the snail. What's your point?"
"That's exactly what I mean." He sounded… stern, almost. "Sentiment is archaic."
What was he saying? 'Sympathy is last year's black'? "I disagree on the basis of that's stupid."
"Do you have a better reason?"
"No. But it's still stupid."
Law leaned back and, though his face was impassive, she got the feeling he was surreptitiously analyzing her. "All the times I've tried to kill you, and the only way I could was for you to hurt me so irredeemably you'd die from the guilt?" He went quiet for a few seconds (she counted three and half faucet-drips) and said at last, "That is the worst strategy I've ever heard of."
Sophie lit a cigarette. "Yeah, probably because I don't consider my life as one huge chess game."
"Perhaps that's why you have a bad habit of losing," Law said calmly.
Sophie stared at him, ash falling from her cigarette… and then a smile burst across her face, genuine and sun-bright. "You're totally lecturing me."
A crease formed in the middle of his forehead. That reaction was not at all what he'd meant to provoke.
"You are!" she said happily. "You're trying to give me advice in the meanest way possible so it won't give away your true intentions. 'That's why you have a bad habit of losing," she mimicked in his low voice, and brightened. "That is exactly what a big bad evil pirate would say to his archenemy as they part ways. Thank goodness I'm leaving tomorrow, because a few more days around me and you'd be monologuing your entire villainous plans for the future."
One eyebrow crept up. "I do not… monologue."
"And you don't joke around with ex-World Government chemists, yet here we are."
His lips twitched upward in what was definitely a smile, for which Sophie gave herself a mental pat on the back. She'd take it. This famous super rookie wasn't so much enigmatic as he was a competitive, smug meanie. When did it get so easy to talk to him? Before she even finished the thought, she was speaking again.
"I'm heading to Idyll tomorrow." An unremarkable little island close to the Calm Belt, very much off the beaten path. She planned to stay there for a while to figure out what she was going to do with her life. "So, um… goodbye and thanks. You know. The whole farewell shebang." Sophie tried to look cool as she blew smoke at the ceiling.
Law leveled her an expectant gaze. "Are you going to cry again?"
Splotches of red colored her cheeks. "N-no!"
"Hm. Pity."
"Do you feast on the tears of babies? Is that how you gained your powers?"
"Yes," Law confirmed.
"Sadist."
He laughed at that, low and brief. Telling her she needed to abandon all sentiment, ye who enter the Grand Line, when he was the most laidback pirate she'd ever heard of. Laidback, mocking, with a gruesome sense of humor… I'll miss him, Sophie realized with a stab of shock… which slowly morphed into delight. She'd miss him! Him and his crazy schemes and his crazier ambitions. It was so ridiculous, so absolutely silly and pointless and every other nonsensical thing in the world, and she couldn't stop grinning because she'd tried so hard to avoid this outcome and it snuck up on her anyway.
He held out his hand. "Take care of yourself. Not all pirates are as nice as I am."
She laughed a little, tucking her hair back. "If I ever meet someone else who tries to kill me with poison, I'll let you know." His skin was hard and callused. This was probably one of those things she'd think back to later and swoon over or something. Ah, Sophie. "Burn some Marine ships for me."
"I'll see what I can do."
The door crashed open.
"Shit!" The pirates leaned too far out from their eavesdropping corner and tumbled over each other. Shachi was the first to recover and ran up to them. "GROUP HUG!"
Law visibly paled.
"Shachi, you know I don't—"
He slammed into Law, closely followed by Penguin, and Bepo scooped the three of them up. Sophie ducked under them and whirled around just as Anko appeared.
"YOU'VE BEEN SUPER COOL AND WE'LL MISS YOU!" Anko threw his arms wide open.
"Gah!" Sophie punched him in the face.
"Ow, my eye!"
"Sorry! Reflex!"
—
Sophie's good mood siphoned away as she walked back to Nellie's house. This was more terrifying than the chem certification exam she took when she was thirteen.
You can do this, it's a simple apology. She knocked quickly on the door. A stony-faced Sid received her and all of her courage deflated like a balloon. She shuffled to the kitchen. Nellie was stirring a pot when she entered, a bandage plastered on her nose. She didn't look up, so she was either ignoring her or… she was definitely ignoring her.
"I c-completely understand if you hate me—i-in fact, p-please do e-everything in your power to hate me," she said in a rush. "There was a nightmare, you know—a-and. And I wasn't hitting you. But, I mean, I did, but—I'm sorry. I just… I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry."
Nellie kept stirring. Sophie felt woozy. Good thing she already made a nest in a cardboard box outside.
Guts! You fought in two wars, for crying out loud!
"Nellie-san!" With a sick sort of desperation, she stood her ground. "I-I'm go-gonna keep s-saying sorry u-until you e-either kill me or r-respond! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—"
"The bell peppers aren't gonna wash themselves."
—sorreeeh?"
"You. Wash. Bell peppers."
It took a minute to register. Bewildered, Sophie dragged her feet over to the sink, watching Nellie carefully in case she was going to chuck a boiling hot pot at her head. The older woman peeled and deveined shrimp with astounding swiftness. "Idyll, huh. Not headin' home?"
"…I h-have about half a dozen years of vacation days to use."
"There must be people back home who miss you," she said neutrally.
"Um, y-yeah. I mean—person. Just one person."
"Chop the peppers when you're done." Nellie ruffled her hair as she passed by. She flinched in surprise at the act of fondness. "Here, Sophie, you'll need this." She handed her a knife.
Sophie was so relieved she didn't seem to mind her inability to function as a social creature, she didn't even realize Nellie called her by her actual name. Now that she thought about it, Nellie never minded. She accepted her, nervous tics and all, from the very beginning...
"Thank you," Sophie said, taking the knife.
She tilted her head, smiling. "Yeah, of course."
Romarin stuck her head in and gasped. "I haven't smelled that in twenty years… are you makin' jambalaya?"
"Sure am. Wanna help?"
Sid came in with a new batch of pudding and a quiet apology for Sophie, who turned white as a Horo Horo ghost and spluttered that it was completely my fault and you need to stop saying sorry right this minute, okay. Romarin handled the sizzling pans as Nellie diced tomatoes and celery with ease. Cooking was a warfare Sophie was glad to appreciate from a distance. She lost herself in the repetitive chop-chop-chop and the smell of something faintly nostalgic, something that reminded her of humid swamps and dust on her brow.
She temporarily stopped counting escape routes and stopped fearing tomorrow—because this moment, it was okay to feel at ease.
—
five days previous
"Saint Kasimir, you are—and I mean this in the politest way—SO BRAINLESS YOU LITERALLY SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO EXIST!"
Lightning hit the tower and traveled downwards. A massive burst of electricity shot through the island.
In the depths of the ocean, something stirred. Creaking slowly, the metal slid open and overturned centuries of rock and coral.
Apolleon opened its eyes.
to be continued
trivia
olympe, danton, brissot, roux, couthon: rebels. ganked them from french revolutionary figures.
khana: kasimir's wife and author of the tale of apolleon. named after the ancient bengali poetess/writer.
"her eyes dropped lower. two perfect oxygen molecules": yes, sophie's checking out nellie's boobs.