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—
methyl nitrate pineapples
hypothesis #16
the more things change
—
When morning came, most of the Heart Pirates were waking up from a drunken stupor in the galley. They blinked groggily and shielded their eyes from the sun shining in from the portholes.
"Who's on laundry today?"
A collective groan answered Law, unified in misery.
He rested his palms on the table. "Is anyone sober enough to get work done?"
Valross raised his hand. "Can you talk a wee bit quieter?" he whispered.
"These young'uns don't know how to handle liquor—" And here, Manta pitched forward and puked into a convenient bucket. "I'm fine," his voice echoed from the bucket. "Doing great."
Law rubbed his forehead. "Anyone seen Shachi or Penguin?"
"Sleeping it off in the engine room, methinks…"
The galley doors slammed open and Anko stumbled in, eyes wild. Kamasu coughed loudly. Valross attempted to hide under Bepo.
Law could sense death nearing. "Get your chores done before you kill anyone."
His only response was an aggravated roar as Anko tried to strangle his crewmates with his boiler suit sleeves. But because they were all incredibly hungover, it resulted in little more than a slap-fest and threats to throw up on each other (and all the talk of throwing up made Manta throw up again). Anko grabbed Valross' hat and furiously scrubbed his face, leaving blotches of ink behind.
"Give that back!"
"Sure!" Anko spat on the hat and threw it on the ground, then stomped on it.
He gave him a reproachful look. "That was uncalled for."
"You drew a dozen dicks on my face! You've turned me into a phallic monster!"
"Oh, yeah," Valross laughed as Kamasu reached for another bottle of rum, accidentally punching Anko in the butt, who yelped and grabbed onto Manta. They all toppled on a sleeping polar bear.
"Once you sober up, get started on laundry. That's an order."
"Aye," they sighed, then started screaming as Bepo rolled around and crushed them to the floor.
Hai Xing was finishing up breakfast. The pot was so big he had to stand on a stool and stir the ladle with both hands. Law glanced at the clock; it was already midmorning. He was so focused on getting his crew in order that he hadn't noticed that time had flown by.
"Hai Xing, take care of them while I'm out."
"I can't promise they won't meet a horrific fate when the apocalypse finally arrives and drags us all back to hell." His grim expression was lit up demonically by the fire of the stove. "…So don't expect much."
"Good man."
Law rubbed his freshly-trimmed goatee as he glanced at Kikoku—he was tempted to leave it behind, it seemed unnecessary—but then he thought of Teresa and hoisted it on his shoulder. He was wearing a clean shirt and jeans, both of which he was… pretty sure he never committed any recent murders in.
"Where ya off to?" Valross wheezed as he pulled himself from Bepo's underbelly.
"He's meeting the little lady."
"Wait for me!" Anko sprung up, then tripped over his shoelace and sprawled on the floor, twitching.
"Just force her to join the goddamn crew; broad's been following us long enough," Kamasu grumbled.
Law was about to leave, but that comment made him pause. "I could explain why that's a foolish move, but it won't make a difference because you're drunk."
"I'm always drunk." He fell on top of Anko to prove his point.
"Aghh! Get off!"
"Who wouldn't feel honored being around such a respectable lot like us?" Valross demanded, then showed everyone the hickeys he received last night from his true lady love. There were noises of awe and jealously. "Eh, Captain?"
"I am not inebriated enough to join this conversation," Law declared.
Hai Xing doled out bowls of soup and tortillas, passing them around the table. Anko slung his arm over Valross' shoulders. "Mate, you're gonna forget about that woman in a week."
"Not true! We're in love!"
"Do you even know her name?"
Valross' nose wrinkled. "Give me a few seconds, it'll come to me…"
He shook his head. "Lovers are temporary. But friends?" Anko rubbed Valross' head, smiling, ink dripping down his eyes like mascara. "Friends are forever." Then he dunked Valross' face in soup with an irate, "Fuck you!"
"Violence is an evil cycle," Bepo observed, then went back to sleeping with his little tail stuck up in the air.
Law slipped out the door before any of his crewmates' voices could drag him back in.
—
When morning came, Sophie was still tossing and turning. She was too excited to sleep. How could she sleep?
In a few hours she'd be seeing the Hearts again. What should she say to them? What did people normally say during reunions? According to Hippo, reunions were to brag about your income and military rank to old Marine Academy classmates whom you hated. Though she didn't think that was applicable for the Heart Pirates. Thinking about Hippo made her want to destroy things, so Sophie left that thought alone.
What should she wear? Something nice? Something fancy? She could wear her dress from last night, her beautiful golden dress, and thought about how impressed they'd be. Sophie giggled into her fists.
Actually, they're more likely to steal my fancy clothes than be impressed. She sobered up. How rude.
Sophie exhaled into her pillow, then peeked at the clock and groaned. It was so early, still hours until she had to leave for the docks. She was, clearly, trying for a timeframe that would make her seem respectable instead of totally desperate. She rolled over to stare up at the vast array of painted stars on her ceiling.
Unable to pretend sleeping any longer, she got up from the floor, neatly folded her blankets, and padded to the adjoining bathroom.
Showering in record time, she came back and found a tray of food on the desk and the windows open, sunlight washing into the guest bedroom. The steward was making his first rounds for the early risers. After some indecision, Sophie dressed in normal clothes. Which meant thin, flowery fabric appropriate for Machinastein's hot weather, though it was a touch revealing…
Which was perfectly fine, because she was twenty now! This was her first day being twenty and this was going to be the start of a glorious decade of non-teenageness for her. She shimmied into the clothes and gave a small twirl. There were some scars and stretch marks the shirt didn't cover, but she didn't care. It was just skin, and it wasn't like the pirates hadn't seen worse and it wasn't like Law was going to stop in his tracks, stupefied at how mature she looked, how twenty years old—
OR. YOU KNOW. WHATEVER.
She glanced at the clock and groaned. Not even an hour had passed since she got out of bed. She sat down at her desk, tucking a leg under her.
The food smelled delicious and yet Sophie just poked at it, not feeling hungry. Every time her fork clinked against the plate, the noise reverberated in her ears.
Was it always this quiet?
It was a loud kind of silence, a kind that made you want to vocalize any sound to break it, make it seem less empty.
She looked at the clock and, sighing, went back to playing with her food. Her fingers tap-tap-tapped the desk, the only noise in an otherwise silent bedroom. Her eyes wandered to the wardrobe, the leafy green plants, to the bed that she never slept in, and sighed again.
Sophie pushed the plate away. She glanced at the clock again, wishing time would go faster.
—
Law left the docks and took the train into the inner city, the heart of Machinastein. The city was cleaning up after last night's festivities. Workers picked up trash, streamers, and discarded lanterns. Energetic government employees dashed up and down the Jaguar Temple's stairs, clutching stacks of paper and shouting into Den Den Mushi.
"Law-san!"
A familiar face ran down the steps. She was dressed like herself today, wearing her signature gloves and dog tags. Odin's dog tags. Her deerskin satchel was replaced by a backpack. It jingled with every step as she ran up to him, smiling radiantly.
"Good moooorning!"
"Where'd you steal those clothes from?" he greeted.
"I bought them, you mango! I'm getting a weekly allowance now. I'm not a captive, so President Ursa's paying me all this stella to do some simple chemistry research for her…"
Stella, printed with a crescent moon and various constellations, was Machinastein's unique currency.
Sophie stood on her tip-toes, peering at him. "What happened to your face?"
"The weather's too warm for a beard."
That was Law Speak for 'my beard ran off to hibernate for the summer, soon to return on the first frost of winter as I, a lone huntsman, journey through the woods', she was certain. "I was just leaving to meet you at the docks." She glanced over his shoulder, left and right. "No one else came?"
"Too hungover." Her expression dimmed. Law found himself saying, "They'll visit when they're awake."
Sophie was satisfied with that and nodded. She shuffled her feet. "So… did you get breakfast yet?"
"Yes."
"Oh, me too," she said quickly. "I'm so full. The food that the Jaguar Temple makes is amazing. Everything about it is amazing. I even brush my teeth twice a day now—"
He politely cut her off, "So what's the plan?"
"Mmm… first, do you have something to cover your head? No? Here." She took off her feathery shawl and threw it over his head. "I-I'm gonna have to smuggle you in. It's not exactly, uh, the local bar where the delinquents gather to conspire against the government and vandalize public property."
He lifted the hem of the shawl so he could glare at her. "What exactly do you think I do in my free time?"
"I thought I described you pretty well."
"Points for a vague sense of effort."
"And can you make your sword, like… less conspicuously 'I'm six-foot-tall and could accidentally take out your eyeballs without knowing it'?"
"I don't need Kikoku to take out someone's eyes."
"Humor the poor chemist? Please?"
He swung Kikoku off his shoulders and clutched it like a walking stick. He waved at himself, as though to ask, 'better?'
She looked him over. The shawl cast a long shadow over his eyes. It cut over the bridge of his nose, across the plane of his lips, and vanished into the dark, secret line of his neck. She imagined pressing her thumb there and watching his shadow bleed on her skin.
"Perfectly adequate." Sophie clutched the straps of her backpack, knuckles biting down. "We're heading there."
Law's gaze followed to where her finger pointed.
Above the cityscape stood a collection of small, irregular pyramids—one was entirely wooden and seemed to be built from plants; others had giant telescopes attached to the top. They were connected by stairs or walkways to form a mega-pyramid, where it is said that the gods brought down the theory of numbers and delivered humanity into the age of reason: Machinastein University.
—
"Look," Sophie began, and obviously couldn't come up with a good follow-through for what was so great for him to look at, so she finished weakly, "It's… got… character?"
He twisted a microscope. The eyepiece made a nasty creaking sound.
Law inspected the outdated centrifuges, incubators, and water baths. He peered inside empty cabinets and Sophie was glad she spent those three days getting the moths out. She toed a blotchy pink stain on the cement floor. Accidental spill. A derivative of rhodamine, maybe.
"To be fair, they tried to send me to the morgue's lab until I pitched a fit and set the corpses on fire. Then they assigned me this room. It's the only lab space available."
"I recall passing by three empty labs on the way here."
"Shows how much they love sticking it to the World Government." She worried her lip. "I told them I renounced my old titles, but they didn't care."
"Say 'Sengoku eats shit' in front of them," he suggested.
Sophie choked on her spit.
"Too soon?"
"L-let's just get started." She turned around, but he heard her mutter 'shut your pineapple' under her breath.
They stood in the basement of the College of Chemistry. It might've been a big space once, but most of it was covered with boxes or else boarded off. The only visible area was so small that—aside from the various lab equipment—there was only room for one table in the middle. There was also only one window, but it was so scratched he couldn't see the blue sky outside.
He ran a finger along the counter and examined it. Not a speck of dust, but that was certainly because of Sophie. He'd been in his share of shitty labs and this wasn't a problem to work in; more of a letdown, really, given Machinastein University's reputation.
Sophie produced several fat folders from her backpack. "Memorize these. Seeing as how we don't have any samples or bloodwork, I'm going to recreate the gas. The ingredients I already bought." She lightly kicked the cardboard boxes. "Then we have to expose it to test subjects. Rats, of course."
"Hm."
"Law-san."
"I'll decide when we get to that stage."
"Law-san."
"I'm sure this country has prisoners—"
She clutched her chest. "Oh my god."
"It's too early in your academic career to rule out human experimentation."
Sophie shared a similar look to Manta this morning, right before he puked in a bucket. "Okay, one thing at a time, Sophie," he heard her muttering under her breath.
Law rummaged through the folder. All the papers were about Vira. "Is this the only thing you took from G-13?" It certainly wasn't worth fifty million beli…
"Oh, no… there's way more research, but I hid them. In case."
Law mentally tapped his foot. Fine. He could wait.
As he flipped through the folder, he came across a stack of photos. Law studied the first photo, which was just of marines saluting the World Government flag, and spread them on the table.
It was one bloody scene after another. Bodies pumped full of bullets. Marines dying sick on cots. Bits and pieces of revolutionaries. Shifting through those, he came across more candid mementos of the Viran War. Soldiers huddled around a campfire, slurping noodles out of paper cups. A patrol officer smoking while on duty. Marines kicking a rock between two makeshift goal posts. Another of the medics, their faces covered with white masks, frozen in motion as they carried in wounded soldiers. He recognized her sensei in the forefront.
There was one of a group of soldiers making funny faces at the Cameko Mushi. Law stopped on it, amused, then noticed what she scribbled at the bottom.
21 3 Alpha. K.I.A.
Her platoon was huddled together like old buddies. This was clearly before the toll of the war hit, before their numbers dwindled to one. He'd never seen her in military fatigues before. She stood a little bit apart from the rest, her long yellow hair pulled in a ponytail. He'd forgotten she used to have long hair. She was the only soldier not smiling, those still, somber eyes staring at something he couldn't see. She looked… different, somehow… more detached, more…
Sophie—real, present Sophie—slammed her hand over the photographs.
"Th-these aren't important," she said with a short, fast laugh, and tucked them in her backpack. Law tried to reconcile the soldier with the girl standing in front of him, all nervous twitches and tapping fingers.
"Were you a loner or something?"
She tossed him a white lab coat before tugging one on herself. "Absolutely not. My platoon loved me."
"Really?"
"You act like that's hard to believe."
"I'm saying it's hard to believe."
Fine, she lied. Whatever. "What do you care, anyway?"
Law shrugged. Huffing, she bent her head over a pile of documents. She tried working like that for a few minutes, then became frustrated with the bangs falling across her eyes. Sophie yanked her hair in a bushy ponytail. He kicked his legs on the table, thinking back to the soldier in the photo, waves of neat yellow curls spilling beneath her helmet.
"They were all killed in action except for you," he voiced, and she threw her quill on the desk.
"Your past traumas do not allow you to act this impediment, Law-san."
"Impertinent."
"What?" she snapped.
"Never mind. You're asking me for help on this project; I'm merely curious."
"Law-kun," Sophie simpered, batting her eyelashes, "I had no idea how much you care about me."
"I'm invested in the well-being of all my future experiments."
She rubbed her goosebumps. "Never say that again."
"I have a feeling that when I read the death records, I'll find your platoon listed among those who died when G-13 released PSNOHC11—"
She slammed her hand on the table. The silence that followed was almost painful.
"You don't bother me about this and I won't bother you a-a-about Flevance," she said hotly. "Okay?"
Sophie would later reflect upon this moment with bitter irony. Two people who went through similar experiences, and their first instinct was to shut each other out. Had they made an effort to try, maybe she would've taken her first step to healing—or some semblance of it—that much sooner. Maybe he would've gotten better at this 'vulnerability garbage,' he'd eventually confide, tracing circles behind her ear… but, of course, this would not happen until much further down the road.
"Okay?" she demanded again.
Law thought about telling her that his demons hadn't let him sleep for fourteen years. But she looked so close to crying, and it was too early in the morning to deal with that.
"Okay."
—
Sophie read through a few more documents, scribbled down some notes, and announced she was taking a smoke break. Law grunted. He was so focused on reading he didn't look up as her footsteps left the basement.
She ordered breakfast at a flowery café next to the Astronomy College and took her time burning through a pack of cigarettes.
One in half a million.
Those were the odds of someone surviving Amber Lead. Out of everyone at Flevance, it had to be the boy who'd grow up to be a pirate. It was sad. Every atom of common sense in her body told her Law had a sad, sad story. But still, Sophie felt worse for the ghosts who could only live on in the memories of a ruthless killer. How much would that suck?
Thank pineapples she bluffed her way out of that. It'd hit her in a split-second, the certainty that the White Town was a subject Law did not want to talk about. And regardless of her ultimatum, neither did she. Listening to him recount the riots and infected corpses burning in the streets wasn't going to help her sleep better.
One in half a million. Not odds she wanted to bet on.
She focused on the smoke curling around her teeth, the firm weight of her feet on the earth. Why were moments like these harder than actual combat? Maybe this was a war in itself. But even as she thought it, that didn't quite make sense to Sophie. The war had been over for weeks.
When she arrived in the basement, Law was pacing around the lab, leafing through papers.
"Operation: Red Sky at Morning."
"Clever, isn't it?" she replied blandly. "At least it's not Strangways Sophie Sickness. Marines are suckers for a good alliteration."
"It was released on the battlefield eighty-five days into the war. Word was slow to arrive to the center of no man's land, the Blithe District. They had done no safety trials on PSNOH—fuck, that name is a mouthful—on Red Sky and its effects reached further than anyone anticipated. For every revolutionary that died, two marines were killed by the gas." He flipped the page. "Unfortunately, as thunderstorms and hurricanes persisted in the last weeks of the war, any effort to bury the dead bodies was… impeded."
Sophie straightened out her papers.
"And the two who toppled the Viran monarchy?" He flipped two photos between his fingers. "First off, the koala can't be older than you."
A photo of a furious woman, blood splashed across her face. Fishman Karate practitioner, Koala. Highly dangerous. Kill on sight.
A blurry photo of a young man shadowed by dust. Chief of Staff, Sabo. Do not engage.
"First off, you superhumans are in a league of your own." She pointed at the Chief of Staff. "I saw him wipe out an entire regiment on his own. As for the koala? She trapped my unit in a skirmish that gave me this." Sophie raised her left arm and pointed at a pale scar running down her tricep. "I don't even know how I got away."
She really didn't. There were some things she couldn't remember about Vira. Blank gaps in her memory, like someone had neatly cut them out with scissors.
"Sabo. Koala. What stupid names." Sophie cast the photos a hateful gaze. It was a nice visage, he had to admit.
They read on in silence, though every once in a while, Law would ask for clarification on a confusing formula and Sophie would gauge his opinion on the symptoms of the sickness.
Around mid-afternoon, they discovered the basement also functioned as a storage unit. Several college students burst in, carrying folded lanterns and jaguar statues. With the reflexes of a startled mongoose, Sophie chucked her shawl over Law's head and explained that he was a sickly old doctor, infected with disgusting sores, do not go near him or you'll turn into a wrinkled zombie. She kicked him under the table, and he glared at her and gave a rasping cough for effect. The students speedily organized the leftover festival decorations and left. One med student cast a lingering glance at Law and she signed something in the air as she left the basement.
"You know," she said a while later, "this is the longest we've ever sat in peace and quiet together without one of us being unconscious." He was quiet. "Law-san?" she prodded.
Sharp grey eyes flicked up, irritation glinting. "What?"
Sophie glared back. "I thought you'd get another dumb tattoo while I was away. Something to remember me by."
"You know what they say about fools, Sophie."
"We're gonna die young and miserable?"
"I wouldn't know; I'm not a fool," he said, and went back to studying.
She stabbed the paper with her quill. Terrible meanie durian booger.
The material was so lengthy and complicated not even the Terrible Meanie Durian Booger finished it by the end of the day. He folded the notes he'd written and hoisted Kikoku over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow."
Sophie watched him pack up, tongue-tied and wracked with nerves. Weren't the Heart Pirates stopping by? (Say something.) Could she visit them on the submarine? (Say something!) Was he…
"See you…"
The door had swung shut and he was gone. He didn't even look at her, but her voice was so soft she doubted he heard. There was no reason to take it to heart. Law was the kind of person who was always focused on something. Important things. Like tweezing his stupid nose hairs.
Sophie contemplated how loud the silence was with the absence of papers flipping, soft sighs, fingers tapping on wood…
Shoot, she forgot to tell Law to cover his face!
…Oh, well. She'd worry about it if she saw him being chased across campus by teachers with flaming pitchforks.
—
In her guest bedroom, with all its guest chairs and guest bed and fake homeliness, Sophie paced and flipped through a folder on PSNOHC11. Law was right; that name was a mouthful. Red Sky, then. Catchy. Subtly threatening. She still wanted to read more, jot down notes for him, but it only took a few minutes for her eyes to start glazing over. Perhaps she'd be in the mood for studying in the library, or a busy café… but found that her body wouldn't move.
I should've gone with him.
"Don't be silly," Sophie scolded, slapping herself twice in the face.
She had so many more things to do! She had to find a cure for Red Sky, and she had to deal with the whole Hippo thing, and the Marines would be searching for Gas Mask, which was her, and they'd catch onto that sooner or later, and she had to find Nellie and Sid, and—
Her legs collapsed under her.
It took a few seconds for her to register that she was sitting on the floor, and sitting definitely wasn't on her to-do list, and what was she doing? She should be getting up and getting to work.
But… but she just couldn't muster up any energy…
Sophie curled up on the floor. Odin's dog tags slid out of her neckline and onto the rug, gleaming in front of her eyes. Did Lisbeth ever feel like this? She must have. All alone in her ivory tower, so quiet she felt like suffocating.
The thought was too heavy, too sad, so she squeezed her eyes shut and wished it would be tomorrow. Tomorrow, as Sophie used to think to herself in G-13, always seemed better than today.
It was like the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
—
Someone was in the bedroom.
She knew this because they tripped over her.
Several more voices, male, intruders. Sophie wasn't even half awake yet, but a shriek rose from her throat and she grabbed the nearest object—an aloe vera plant—and hurled it at the black mass standing above her.
"Fuck, my eye!"
Screaming bloody murder, she scrambled to her feet and frantically searched for another weapon.
"She's gonna wake the whole Temple! Someone shut her up!"
That only made her scream louder. She aimed a punch at a silhouette moving towards her and felt something soft collide with her knuckles ("Shit, my other eye!"). Where was her lighter? She put it on the bed before she went to sleep—
The fire hissed alive as she smacked into something solid and two hands gripped her shoulders. Sophie squinted at the doctor in front of her, illuminated by the little flame in her hand.
"Hey," Law said. "I told you we'd visit later."
Sophie blinked dumbly. "You… your shoes better be clean." Out of nowhere, something hit her in the face. "Ow!"
"Happy birthday!" chirped Shachi's voice.
She picked up the cup of pudding. She didn't like licorice flavor…
Sophie lit a candle and soft light washed over the pirates awkwardly crowding around her room. They stared at the stars painted on her ceiling, the enormous bed, and the luxurious, flower-patterned carpet. Sophie, however, was staring at the pirates, a little bit dazed, a little bit in awe. Shachi, Anko (nursing two bruised eyes), Bepo, and Law… oh, and Hai Xing in the corner; she almost didn't see him, he blended into the curtains so well.
She barely got an incredulous breath in before Shachi tackled her in a hug. "Dude, your hair," he yelped, lifting up her curls and squinting at the roots. "Was it yellow before?"
"I c-cut and dyed it black so you guys wouldn't be able to find me. L-lot of good it did," she grumped as Shachi snickered. Seeing him smile made the tight, anxious knot in her chest lessen.
She swept him off his feet in a tight hug. Shachi hacked up a little bit of dinner.
"Oh, sorry!" She set him on his feet. "How did you know this was my room?"
"We didn't. There are about," he counted on his fingers, "seven people who are gonna wake up with killer headaches tomorrow."
Anko bounded forward. "Fifty million! Fight me!"
Sophie smacked him away in alarm.
"She just did," Law pointed out.
"That doesn't count! It was very dark and you threw a plant at me!"
"Shhhh! You deserved that for invading my room. Be grateful it wasn't the cannabis plant, that thing is very heavy."
Anko only focused on the last part. "There's weed? Here?"
Figures. She gave the pirate standing beside her a weird look. "Are you… sniffing me?"
Shachi went on a coughing spree and set her hair down. Then it was Bepo's turn to hug her. It was so cute Sophie had a nosebleed and had to sit on the bed.
"Oh, that hasn't happened in a while."
"Sophie-chan, you have a problem."
"A-a-adaptive th-therapy. I just need more h-h-hugs from Bepo-san and I'll be fine…"
"Pass." Bepo nervously watched Sophie stuff tissues up her nose to stem the bleeding.
Shachi was investigating the nightstand's drawers. "Sophie-chan, you wouldn't happen to have a couple thousand spare beli? We kinda bet on your life and lost, so Hai Xing has all our money."
"…Who came here to hassle me for money, raise your hand."
Two hands and a polar bear paw went into the air. Law stuck his hands in his pockets and voiced, "My intentions are pure. As always."
"Captain lost five thousand beli," Bepo said cheerily.
Law gave him a long, long look. "Only by virtue of our friendship will I refrain from calling you a traitor."
"I know." Bepo patted him on the head.
Sophie glared at Hai Xing. "I get fifty percent. Thanks for your hard work."
"Five." Apparently his gloominess didn't offset his business acumen.
"Thirty."
"Five and a cup of pudding."
Five percent must still be a lot, thought Sophie, who used to think finances was some sort of witchcraft done by goblins. "Done!" She then proceeded to examine the measly amount of beli in her palm with a sigh. She glanced at the pirates, a thought occurring to her. "Is Penguin-san coming?"
"What?" Shachi pretended like he hadn't heard, then thought better of it. "Oh, uh, he had some stuff to do."
"Like skulking in the engine room," Anko corrected. "He'll be fine tomorrow."
She felt a twinge in her chest. That sounded familiar.
But Shachi distracted her by producing a pack of beer bottles. He flopped on the floor. "Cheers!"
Sure, go ahead, make yourselves at home… pirates, honestly. Sophie sat beside Shachi and Anko quickly followed, pushing Hai Xing away so he could sit on her other side.
The redhead cracked open a cold beer and handed it to her. "How old are you now?"
"Twenty and one day." She raised a brow at Shachi's bemused expression. "What?"
"For some reason I thought you'd be older."
"I am still filled with the burning passion of youth."
Anko flipped his bottle cap in the air. "Cap's twenty-four."
She hid a smile. "Gross."
"Can you believe this brat?" Law asked Hai Xing, who was twenty-five. The cook muttered 'She has a point', which Law chose to ignore.
Sophie set the candle in the middle of the circle. When they were all settled in, Shachi clapped his hands. "Sooooo, tell us how you kicked the shit out of G-13!"
"You can r-read about it in the papers. It's b-boring." She firmly waved away their protests. "I wanna hear about you guys! Tell me everything that happened while I was gone."
It didn't take much cajoling for them to start bragging about their escapades. Anko grabbed Hai Xing in a headlock and reenacted how their captain took out some guy's eyeball, then Bepo tried to rescue Hai Xing from a cackling Anko, and it somehow ended up as a mock duel for Hai Xing's maiden honor. Shachi did a dramatic retelling of a drinking match against a bunch of Kid Pirates, featuring impromptu karaoke and several air-guitar solos. Sophie was a good audience; she gasped in shock and clapped enthusiastically at all the right parts.
As the night wore on, the circle became a lopsided heptagon. Sophie held the limit to two beers and spent the rest of the night drinking water. Reading about organophosphates while hungover didn't seem like a fun idea, and she wasn't a heavyweight like… well… all the pirates, apparently.
Shachi drunkenly did impressions of Gold Roger, which consisted of horrific squawking noises and insisting that's how he scared off his enemies. Anko disagreed and had to deal with Shachi demonstrating how Gold Roger would fart on his helmsman. Giggling so hard water came out of her nose, she leaned her head against Hai Xing's shoulder. He tried to shift away, but she clung onto him and he gave a morose sigh and accepted his fate.
"Hai Xing-san, how'd you get those scars on your forehead?"
"Birthmark."
Oh. She'd hoped for something more interesting.
They talked for hours, until all the beer bottles were empty and yawns caught them between every sentence. Bepo was already asleep on the rug. She invited them to sleep over, complimentary king-sized bed included. They were suspicious, but she assured them nothing was wrong with it, it was too soft for her taste. She preferred the floor.
"Anko, go sleep in the bathroom," Shachi groaned.
"I don't wanna. Move over." He squished beside Shachi, kicking Hai Xing further down the bed.
Sophie blew the candle out. She sat on the rug, cross-legged beside the Law-shaped silhouette. He was lying on his back, but she didn't think he was sleeping or inebriated. She took off her gloves and rolled an empty beer glass in her hands, the glass warming up under her skin. I should tell him how awesome his crew is, she admitted humbly. Just do it, Sophie. I believe in you. Take a deep breath and pretend you're talking to Nellie-san…
"You didn't have to come along," she mumbled, and wanted to cover her face. It was dark, so she did.
"I wanted to."
"…I didn't hide my research in this room."
"Damn. My whole evening's gone to waste."
"Oh…"
Law quirked an eyebrow at her shadow. "That was a joke."
"Oh," she said again, mostly annoyed. "Well. Good."
There came something like a soft chuckle.
Sophie kept rolling the beer bottle in her hands, and then said, "I, uh. I killed a marine, at G-13. Not the first person I've killed, but—first marine, yeah."
"Huh," Law said quietly. Then, "How'd it feel?" Which sort of very sadistic of him.
"I did it with a gun, so I didn't technically feel anything. One shot, clean through the head."
"You know that's not what I meant."
She pressed the cool bottom of the glass bottle to her forehead. "Yeah."
"We do what we have to do, to survive," he said. She thought she saw the corner of his mouth quirk up. "Or does it mean less coming from a pirate?"
She thought about it, then shrugged with a yawn. "I don't know. I think it's meaningless in general, sort of," she mumbled, wobbling to her feet, feeling so tired she could sleep for years. "I'm not a marine, and G-13 isn't a part of me anymore. It all means nothing now, so."
"Right," Law said, after a pause.
"Right," Sophie agreed, and then, the heel of her foot met the slippery surface of a stray bottle.
He shot up and caught her by the waist.
She ended up straddling him, palms braced on his chest to steady herself, and she was so awake, she had never been more awake.
Sophie recalled the time that she hugged him on the deck of the submarine, when for all she knew she'd never see him again. That earned her total bragging rights. Who else had hugged the Surgeon of Death and not gotten shanked for it? She recalled the sunshine on the deck, his sigh as he made a measly attempt to hug her back. It was actually quite sweet, how chaste and platonic the embrace was.
But now, now his hands—which gripped her painfully in his haste to catch her—relaxed against the line of her bare stomach, unimpeded by fabric. The width of his hand, the slow rise of his chest, made her suddenly impressed by the difference between twenty and twenty-four.
"Well." His voice was soft, to not wake his crew. "You've thrown subtlety out the window."
"Hey, I almost died there." She was mesmerized by the tenor of his heartbeat against her disfigured palms. Or was that her own heart?
"Your lack of warrior instinct is astonishing."
"I'm impaired."
"Right."
This was so inappropriate. This was inappropriate and he was a smelly pirate and his fingers were brushing the hem of her shirt—
She kneeled there, listening to her heart that was maybe his or maybe both of theirs, able to feel with every fiber of her being that she stood at the middle of a crossroads. And for an instant, for the barest instant she gave in and tilted forward, pressing gently over his chest—but the urge passed as quickly as it came.
She reached through the darkness to where she estimated Law's head was and clumsily patted his soft hair. "All clear. No lice."
He let go of her waist. "Appreciate that," he murmured, and there was a cool weight on her wrists as he moved her arms away from him. She heard the rustle of denim as his shadow maneuvered away from her, and then his soft footsteps as he stepped around Bepo to sleep on the other side of the room.
After a long silence, Sophie curled up in the spot he'd just occupied. She listened to the pirates' deep breathing, lost in slumber. She tried to breathe in sync with them to calm her racing heart and felt a little bit miserable, even if she knew she walked on the right road.
You know what they say about fools, Sophie.
She inched towards Bepo's body heat and, thankfully, sleep came to greet her with a swift beat of its wings.
—
Sophie woke up poised to scream.
Took a few seconds to calm down. Breathe. Breathe.
She realized she was shivering. Where had Bepo gone? She rose slowly, peeling back the hair matted to her face, and a blanket slid off her shoulders. Did she cover herself with a blanket before she fell asleep? She couldn't remember…
Law was also missing, but he'd left his nodachi and hat on her desk.
On her bed, Shachi's legs were tangled around Anko's, who was almost falling off the edge, and Hai Xing was curled up between them in a blanket cocoon. A fierce, warm feeling swelled in her chest. She rubbed it. Indigestion?
Sophie found the licorice pudding Shachi had bought for her. She peeled the lid off, picked up the spoon that came with it, and took a bite.
Ugh. She gagged. Disgusting.
She examined the cup, thinking back to all those birthdays she spent locked in her laboratory, rushing to meet another project deadline.
Sophie took more small bites, almost vomiting each time, and padded quietly to the window. She opened the curtains a bit, careful to not disturb the pirates. The sky was bluer and brighter than she expected; she'd slept far longer than normal… than for the past few months, actually. Huh.
Her gaze fell to the garden terrace below and she spotted a shock of white fur among the plants. Bepo stood by the terrace's edge. And there was Law, standing beside him. Plumerias, red orchids, and trumpet flowers surrounded the two in an ocean of color. They looked so calm, facing the early morning sun.
From this angle, it almost looked like they were laughing…
But she wasn't tempted to join them, not at all. She was a professional who was focused only on the job. With the determination of your unfriendly neighborhood buzzkill, Sophie opened the window and stuck her head out, calling, "Law-san! Stop having a good time and let's get to work!"
—
They spent the rest of the day holed up in the basement. At midday, Shachi and Bepo came to check the ventilation. Well, Shachi did and Bepo was just curious. Law wanted to secure this small, dirty room before anyone tried to make a deadly chemical gas and ended up poisoning the entire island.
It took Shachi and Bepo's combined efforts to yank open the little window. It'd been glued shut by centuries of rust and cobwebs, which—to Sophie's horror—cascaded all over the floor. They knocked aside the tower of boxes to get to the air ducts, which sent another layer of dust to the floor. The horror! She zipped out and came back armed with a mop, broom, bucket, several rolls of paper towels, and a crazed glint in her eyes. Her berserk cleaning forced the pirates outside. They stood in front of the door, ordered to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Bepo covered himself in her fine silks.
Several students came down to the basement, looking to store their lab materials. They stared at the mummified polar bear, then at the other two with books raised over their faces. How conspicuous. "What's going on?"
There came a loud bang and a maniacal cackle.
The tall one didn't lower his book. "A cleaning witch is on a rampage."
"Should we be worried?"
"Yes," said the shorter one.
"Come back later. We'll be done by then."
They stared at the polar bear. It was a polar bear, no matter how many layers of silk it wrapped around itself.
"Woof," said Bepo.
—
"Okay." Sophie clapped her book shut. "I'm ready to recreate Red Sky."
"No." Law set down his quill. "You haven't eaten yet and your hands are shaking."
Oh. So they were.
The window was a hazy dark grey, which meant it was close to sundown. It was already so late? And this dull ache she'd been feeling for the past three hours… yes, that was definitely her stomach attempting to devour itself out of hunger…
Simultaneously, their stomachs gave a loud whine. Law grimaced. He acted cool, but his organs betrayed him.
"Food it is," Sophie agreed readily, cleaning up the papers and ink jars.
He followed her out the University and into an area of the island he'd not yet visited: the night market. Though the evening came with a cooling ocean breeze, the packed crowd, sizzling food, and bright lights made up the difference. Sophie pulled her hair into a ponytail, already sweating.
Law got himself some food and a newspaper. She sprang forward before he could pay. "I got it. As thanks for helping out."
He motioned at the amount of money stacked on the vendor's stand. "That's too much."
"Eh… they'll give me change…"
He rolled his eyes and riffled through her money. The amount of zeroes surprised Law. If this is what she was earning after a week… what she could make annually was enough for her to live in comfort on Machinastein. Far better than some inconsistent… pirate income.
His mouth tightened into a line. He counted, and gave the exact amount to the vendor.
"Invest in a wallet," he advised, giving the rest back to her. She stuffed it in the back pocket of her tiny shorts. It begged the question how she could fit anything in there.
"Oh, I'm fine."
"Says the ideal victim of a pickpocket."
"I was once called a young Vegapunk; do you really think a simple thief—" She turned to see Law holding a wad of cash between two fingers. Her cash. Sophie digested this. "…Did you just grope me? I didn't even feel that."
Law smacked the stella on her forehead and continued walking.
He spread open the World Economic Journal. 'Mock Town's Hard Knocks by Pirates Running Amok!' shouted the title. Bellamy Pirates thrown into disarray by an upstart rookie, Straw Hat Luffy… and a lively appearance by Fire Fist Ace, who was searching for a Whitebeard pirate gone rogue…
Sophie strode beside him, mouth covered primly as she munched on chili-covered cricket, so she could read over his arm.
He perused a little further (brushing aside articles that sang praises to Black Cage Hina for her recent battles) and read in a tiny paragraph on the bottom of page six—Sengoku called a meeting of Shichibukai at HQ to discuss Crocodile's empty seat, though further information had yet to be released.
Disgust curdled in his chest. He loathed the name Shichibukai, loathed what it represented. The World Government was desperate for leverage against Whitebeard and the Revolutionaries, even if it meant hiring pirates and turning a blind eye to the goddamn havoc they caused anyway. He was fucking sick of this, of the Marines who hated all pirates but made deals with them when no one was looking, who said that they had the unequivocal right to decide whether a murderer was a criminal or not. At least Sophie, when she still loved the Government, had been honest in her beliefs to the point of cussing him out to his face.
'Reports of unexpected attendants Hawk Eyes Mihawk and the Heavenly Yaksha Doflamingo…' What a spectacular fucking operation the World Government ran. To support the biggest black market in the world and not even know it. That took a special kind of stupidity.
"Ya know how Idyll is Whitebeard territory?"
Sophie's voice broke through his thoughts. Somehow, meeting her eager gaze made his livid thoughts decrease to a simmer. She waited until he nodded and grinned, kebab stick jauntily tilted between her teeth. "Well…"
"Fire Fist Ace?" he asked a few minutes later, when she finished recollecting her idyll interlude.
"Shiny, Beautiful, Fire God Ace-san," Sophie corrected. "A deity who has descended from the heavens to grace us unworthy mortals with his magnificent shoulders."
Law was unfazed. "Right. That Ace."
She finished off three tamales and licked her fingers clean. "Why are all the hot ones also infamous criminals? I mean, have you seen Whitey Bay's bounty poster! Whitebeard is so lucky, he gets Whitey Bay and Hot Fire God and all the pretty pirates…"
"Whitebeard runs a pirate fleet, not a harem."
Her eyes glittered. "Do you think he'd be willing to branch out his profession?"
"Give it a try," he supported. "Less enemies for me."
They squeezed through the most crowded area of the marketplace, so she was pressed up against his arm and he was careful to avoid her sandaled feet, toes small against the strappings. She was warm and though it was a hot night, Law couldn't muster up the energy to move away. He had to keep a close eye on her backpack, after all. Thieves were everywhere.
Case in point, he took a handful of her avocado snack.
"Dirty fingers." She slapped his hand away. "Anyway, while I do think Ace-san would make a great addition to Whitebeard's harem, he is actually quite terrifying."
"That so?" He stole another avocado slice.
"He can blow things up with his mind, Law-san."
"No, he can't."
"And he has freckles! Thirty-two of them. I counted."
He looked at the sky long-sufferingly. "I did nothing to deserve this."
"You poisoned me," she reminded. "And stop stealing my avocado!"
"We both agree that I've made up for that." He stole another one, finishing off the rest of her snack. She let him and gave a loud, laughing scoff.
"Not until you're lying on your death bed will I forgive you," Sophie said with a mildly threatening giggle and disentangled herself from his arm to throw away their food wrappings. With her absence, his shirt sleeve clung uncomfortably to his skin.
He absently wondered in what situation Sophie would know how many freckles Fire Fist had. Then he caught himself. No, he didn't care about the circumstances that involved Sophie and Fire First. It was normal to ponder about the adventures she had when she was gone, now that she was finally back. She'd talk his ear off, anyway; all he had to do was make some vague suggestion that he was interested, and really, that wouldn't be hard to do…
"Captain!"
Shachi and Penguin emerged through the crowd, munching on iguana tails. Hai Xing lagged behind them, arms laden with groceries. Law raised his arm in greeting.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Cap." Penguin grinned. "Did something good happen?"
Law's expression immediately righted itself back into cool neutrality. "It's nothing."
"Hi!" Sophie bounded back, grinning toothily. "The whole gang's here! Hai Xing-san, do you want some fish?" She offered him a bite of her fried tilapia.
"I have enough fish in me already," he replied.
She'd get him to smile. One day. Even if she had to pry his jaws open herself. "There's something very mysterious about you, but I can't put my finger on it. Penguin-san! How've you—"
"See you at home," Penguin said to the others.
"Penguin-san—"
He shot her a glare, then quickly made his way down the street. Sophie blinked after him, then at the pirates, one finger pointing at herself. An invisible question mark appeared over her head.
"That's your cue," urged Shachi.
"The power of friendship," said Hai Xing. Sophie waited for him to finish. He shrugged. "That's all I got."
She squared her shoulders. "I am still expecting that pudding!" she yelled at Hai Xing, and tore after Penguin.
She shouted his name. Yep, definitely ignoring her. She chased after the bouncing red pom-pom through the crowd, yelping every time someone stepped on her feet. Sophie burped and threw up a little bit in her mouth. This level of suffering wasn't fair! She was too full to do a chase scene!
"Penguin-san! Waaaait!"
—
There were only two things Penguin knew about the patient: she stole his captain's favorite scalpel, and had an odd fascination with mops.
No one could pay him to give less of a damn.
(He'd take the money anyway, but.
Still.)
When Crawfish Island was burning, when she was sinking into the coldness of the sea, he wove his arms around her like a net and scooped her back to the surface. He once went dumpster diving to find that scalpel, and,really, he thought, flinging the half-drowned girl on the sand, isn't this basically the same thing?
Captain called her 'the chemist', so Penguin did the same. He thought her last name was apt: Strangways. A stranger in the midst of his family. A transient amusement.
He hoped she'd be gone by morning.
But then the chemist killed a World Noble. And then she blew up a bar on Kunlun. And then he became used to seeing her face across the table, hearing her stutters, and he was yelling Strangways before he realized it. And then, and then, and then. He even let her borrow his own shirt, the one he's had forever and probably smelled a little funky, but it was his own, and he didn't even mind.
So, yeah, maybe he didn't think she'd leave. Maybe he thought joining the Heart Pirates was the greatest thing since the invention of tiny marshmallows in hot chocolate.
So maybe that's why he didn't really get it at first, and it only settled in when he tried to think back to the last thing he said to her, and couldn't remember.
It wasn't fair. Strangways could've woken him up, waved goodbye, given one of her quick sneers to let him know everything was going to be okay. But she didn't do any of that. She just packed up what few belongings she had, snuck out while everyone was asleep, and—left.
Maybe this was a punishment.
Anko, that shithead, started a rumor that Captain was seeing ghosts. Well, he sometimes did see ghosts, but that had mostly to do with a really shit childhood and the lack of a proper therapist. Anko mentioned him chasing after Strangways, or the ghost of her, or the not-ghost of her, and Shachi laughed like he hadn't begged Captain to go back to Idyll Island and then bawled in the engine room until Penguin had to lock him outside.
So when it came down to it, when he saw her standing in the middle of the night market on Avocado Ave, he stomped away. Fast in anger, then faster in mortification. But, much like death itself, that did not deter Sophie.
"Excuse me—coming through—I'M PEEING MY PANTS, LET ME THROUGH—"
"Stop following me!" he shouted over his shoulder.
"Are you angry?"
He walked faster. Sophie chucked her fried tilapia at him. It bounced off his hat.
Penguin was understandably exasperated. "Leave me alone!"
"I'm not following you! I am coincidentally going the same way that you are! You're very vain for a man of your stature!"
Penguin was aghast. "I'm taller than average!"
"Are not!"
"Are too! Where are you even going?" he demanded quickly, having had the last word in.
"Uhhhh… there!" Scrambling, Sophie pointed at the first shop she saw. Unfortunately, they'd reached the red-light area of Machinastein.
"…You're going to an adult sex store."
She floundered. "You don't know me! I have a killer sex life!"
Penguin huffed knowingly. "Sophie, you are probably the only virgin on this street."
"THERE'S ALSO YOU."
"SHUT UP."
"STOP RUNNING AWAY AND I'LL STOP FOLLOWING YOU."
He spun and pointed at her victoriously. "Ah ha! She admits it!"
He braked so fast she almost crashed into him. She avoided him at the last moment and then slipped on a banana peel, oh my god, this actually happens!?
Penguin panted, resting on his knees. She picked herself up, dusting off her scraped elbows, ready to shriek, Stop ignoring me or I'm going to make you feel terrible for making a cute girl cry!
"You," he breathed heavily, "you left. You just… left."
It was right beside a grimy sex shop (Kink to the Machs, the neon letters buzzed) that his brain decided it couldn't ignore her anymore. She tried so hard to be accepted. He should've tried, too.
Sophie stared, jaw slack. "I—I said bye to Law-san—"
"That's not what I'm saying!"
"It w-was implied that he'd p-pass on the message—"
"He's not us!" Penguin backpedaled immediately. "He's not… Bepo. I mean, you and him had been through a lot and… he thought he deserved a goodbye."
"I… I'm b-bad at the whole… goodbye and hello and words," she said, too loud and awkward in her honesty.
Penguin sighed.
"But I'm trying my best!" she wailed.
"I'm just saying," he replied after a beat, "this reunion has been totally delayed because of you."
Sophie reached for his arm, her ears red. "T-tell Bepo-san I m-missed him. And that I'm here now."
"Okay," Penguin said lamely, covering his face with his hat. This boy who once threatened to kill her if she ever ruined his captain's evil schemes. "Okay, Sophie," he said again, and allowed her to pull him back to the Hearts, who were waiting. Her gloved hand was decidedly not ghostlike at all, but corporeal and warm.
—
The next morning, Sophie took the water-powered elevator down to the first floor and the steward greeted her there. "Good morning, Miss. The President has to reschedule your meeting—"
"That's okay! Tell her I'm free whenever!" Sophie called, running past him and the waterwheel, dodging the flurry of government employees.
She skidded outside the Jaguar Temple, breathing in the scent of sweet plumerias and sun-baked earth. Today was her judgement day. Even the stone of anxiety in her chest wasn't enough to dampen Sophie's mood. After today, she'd be a step closer in discovering a cure. She was filled with determination; strong, fiery determination that would not by stopped by anything the universe could throw at her—
"Sophie!" a tree hissed.
She gave the tree a terrified look. "…Tree?"
Hippo leaped from the shrubbery. Sophie was unpleasantly surprised. And she did not appreciate him ambushing her in the middle of her narration of willpower. "I snuck out of the hospital and I'm on a lot of painkillers," he whispered.
She almost lectured him that he shouldn't be escaping from hospitals; he was a doctor, for crying out loud! She bit her tongue and swatted him away. "Go away. I don't want to talk to you." Sophie sped past him. Judgement day, forthcoming.
"You can't not talk to me forever!"
"I c-can do a l-lot of things when I put my m-mind to it." Forever? Sign her up.
Hippo grabbed her wrist. She shook him off. He collapsed on the ground and croaked, "My heart."
What.
"Ohhh, my heart!" Hippo moaned, clutching his chest.
This. This was not happening.
"Get up, you horrible old man!" she snapped as several pedestrians began murmuring.
Her sensei responded by calmly and rationally spasming on the sidewalk. "THE PAIN, THE HORRIBLE PAIN. I FEEL THE COLD, CLAMMY HANDS OF DEATH UPON MY SOUL—"
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" Sophie shrieked, pelting him with rocks. "THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT IN ANY OF YOUR ETIQUETTE LECTURES, YOU COCKROACH!"
"Did you just call me a cockroach!?" Hippo shouted back, face squishing. Then he remembered he was having a heart attack.
Sophie issued a formal complaint. "I HATE YOU."
When this alarmed several people into helping Hippo and shooting Sophie dirty glares, she pointed and fired off, "Look at his wristband! He's a rogue patient from the Civic Hospital and should go back there immediately!"
Hippo seemed to realize that at the same time she did, and now was attempting to crawl away through the crowds' legs.
Someone jerked his wrist up and pulled back his sleeve, revealing a hospital wristband. A woman pulled Hippo to his feet. "Back to the hospital you go, sir."
"Wait!" Hippo desperately reached out, using his final breath to cry, "Bring me some grapes when you visit me! The food is terrible!"
"Fine!" she screeched, running away. "I hope you choke on it!"
—
Law sat in the hallway outside the basement. There was nothing for him to do. The transester process to make PSNOHC11 had to be handled delicately. Too delicately, according to Sophie, for his 'big clumsy hands that weren't used to handling chemicals for which one mistake could condemn everyone on Machinastein to a slow, torturous death'. He took insult at that. He was not clumsy. But she had a point.
He passed the time rereading her notes. Her handwriting was offensively neat, every letter drawn clear.
Pay attention to this part! she'd written and doodled an angry face with puffed up cheeks.
Now, for all the non-chemists out there, she wrote before breaking down the chemical formula of Red Sky. Ask me if you have any questions! I won't make fun of you (Disclaimer: I totally will. MUAHAHA. But ask me anyway.)
He read the rest of her notes, disregarded the actual G-13 research. Her handwriting was much more pleasing to look at. Plus, she drew stick figures that he assumed was motivational. A stick figure with curly hair was leaping over a rainbow while farting flowers and hearts. Beneath it was a mystifying blob he suspected to be Bepo, arms outstretched to catch her. One stick figure was definitely Law, judging by the pointy, satanical goatee and exaggerated eye bags. Little Law wore a crown and his speech bubble said, Future Pirate King Law does not accept failure! Failure is for peons! IF YOU FAIL I WILL ABDUCT YOU TO MY HELL DIMENSION AND FEAST ON YOUR BRAIN.
How flattering.
So Law waited outside the basement, going through the research. When he finished with that, he read a book on sinoatrial nodes. When that was done, he took a nap.
It was a short nap, like always. He was awake again when the door creaked open.
Sophie dragged her weary body to the ground and pulled off her gas mask. She sighed deeply and winced, like breathing fresh air hurt. She raised a small flask lined with quartz and stoppered with a rubber cork. Inside was about an ounce of beautiful, ruby-red liquid.
"Seventy percent," she murmured.
He stared at her. "You pulled a seventy percent yield out of that shit equipment?"
Sophie shrugged. The highest G-13 got was eighty-two. She expected better of herself, even if this was her first try. She caught herself. Only try.
Her head knocked against the wall, eyes puffy with exhaustion. "You ever think about… if we fail?"
"Obviously," Law said, "I'll spirit you away to my hell dimension."
Sophie turned pink and rolled her eyes. She peeled off her gloves and wrapped her hands around the flask protectively, melancholia settling on every curve of her body. He couldn't see her scars in the dim lighting, but maybe that was point.
As they sat in the hallway, a line of sunlight strained in through the crack in the door.
The dazzling line stretched up her arm and arched lovingly on her cheek, a myriad of color in the cool, grey darkness. She squinted at the light and turned to the door, searching for its origin. He thought again to the soldier in the photo. Always looking at something he couldn't see.
"You couldn't spirit me anywhere. I'm too heavy."
"Yeah." He thought about it. "You'll just have to come along yourself."
When she looked at him, her eyes were enormously blue, aglow in the sunlight.
"Pineapple," she called him with great indignation, and kicked his foot.
to be continued
trivia
the more things change: the more they stay the same. despite all of the craziness sophie's gotten herself into, she's still the same lost, confused, and heartbroken person underneath it all. it supposed to parallel the things that law told her on kunlun, in that she can try to escape to the ocean but it won't change how there's a deeper problem that she still needs to come to terms with.
kamasu: japanese for barracuda. ooo, kamasu!
"of course. a cleaning witch": so there's an animated movie with a moving castle and a fire demon.
red sky: psnohc11 is the chemical formula for vx rearranged and spelled backwards. also 'red sky at morning, sailors take warning', the frequent storms on vira gave the morning sun fiery hue, and the entire sky deepened to red when the gas was released on the battlefield.