thank you's to: Xielle Sky, Leynadoodles, Mugiwara-Kaizokudan, Lucinda M. H. Cheshir, DreamsoftheDamn, GreenLilly, TaintedLetter, wise whale, Vi-Violence, 0EveningPrimrose0, YuiYua, Kancolle Haruna Chan, sarge1130, Anya, Razhenshia, and guests!

guys. guys. your comments made me laugh/giggle/choke on air, which has been a very nice relief in these trying times. this chapter was a long time coming and we're finally beginning the last half of mnp's act two. stay safe! have some air-hugs and air-kisses! wash your goddamn hands! and enjoy!

—

methyl nitrate pineapples
hypothesis #31

the alchemist does not say goodbye, or: a compendium of her infernal wonders

—

"That's my chemist you have there."

That's my chemist you have there.

Sophie had never heard such an ominous sentence. That's, spoken like a spear. My, a slap out of nowhere. Chemist, two syllables of pure ice. She didn't want to turn around. Oh, but the sentence wasn't over yet. You have, as though casually pointing out a thief's stolen possessions. There, two grey-gold eyes fixing on the back of her head.

Sabo still hadn't let go of her shirt. To an outsider, it looked like this left-wing anarchist was about to punch her lights out. (Or, in another angle, perhaps it might've looked like—)

That was probably why Law drew Kikoku and slashed it.

Sophie jumped between them, and the clash of metal rang out. In an instant, Kikoku's edge softened and he dialed back the Death Scowl from an eleven to a light six. The nodachi winked in the sunset light as if saying hello, and Kir gleamed back.

She smiled radiantly over her knife's pale-grey handle. "Did you miss me, Captain?"

He was in his usual pair of ratty jeans and a thin grey shirt, his skin darker from the unwavering sun of Omiramba. His scowl eased. "You were gone? I hardly noticed."

Standing behind the chemist, Sabo spun his pipe. "Surgeon."

Law did not even glance at him. "Found you," he said to Sophie, sheathing Kikoku. "Let's go."

"Oi."

Law looked skyward, his jaw working. He turned to Sabo with an irritated look. Meanwhile, Sophie was glancing between these two handsome men and feeling a sudden rise in tension in the air. She covered her mouth. O-oh my? Oh my?

Sabo flicked his pipe behind his back and held out his empty palm. He didn't look annoyed; in fact, he was grinning, as though Law's actions amused him. "I like what you've done with Red Sky."

"He's a revolutionary, yeah?" Law said to Sophie. She had explained it in the letter she sent to Bohibidu Town, and now she nodded.

"The Chief of Staff. But we've… sort of come to an understanding. Actually, they treated me…" Sophie thought of a good comparison, and said brightly, "a little better than how you treated me when we first met!"

Sabo's eyebrows rose a fraction. Law shifted his weight.

"That means I have a good reason to kill you," he remarked, sizing Sabo up. Some of the iciness thawed in Law's gaze. "But I'm also a fan of your toppling the World Government business."

They shook hands.

"Friendship," Sophie simpered. "Aw. Cute."

Both men looked at her.

"She must've terrorized your camp," Law said indifferently.

"Yes, it was difficult," Sabo replied with a great sigh. "Thank you for picking her up."

"Not at all; thank you for amusing her for a few days."

"Hey!" she yelped. She gave a stink-eye to Sabo and an even stinkier one to Law, and huffed, "I take it back, you're both horrid! Stay and make out here if you want, I'm heading back on my own." She spun on her heel with Arsenic slung across her shoulders like a milkmaid's yoke.

"…Has she always been like that?"

"Pleasantly unhinged?"

"Only a nutcase would find that pleasant, Surgeon."

Law suddenly leaned in, and Sabo moved back with a guarded frown. With forensic precision, a pale blue petal was plucked from the sleeve of his white shirt.

Without saying a word, he flicked the petal in the air and took after the chemist. As she chattered about her adventure (giant statues! a strange stone! attempted revenge!), he brushed along the back of her braid, touching the periwinkle flowers tucked through her hair.

—

"Captain, you found her!"

"Everyone! And Bepo, specifically!"

Burnished oil lamps hung from the revolutionary's tents and flickered over the Hearts, lighting them against the blue dusk. They were shiny and suntanned (extra freckled, in Shachi's case), as if they had spent the past week doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and sunbathing.

She showed them her new knife. They politely ooh'd and ahh'd. She showed them their souvenirs, bottles of Omiramban liquor, and they exploded into cheers.

Revolutionaries lingered on the edge of the reunion, smoking their cigarettes and watching the pirates. Sabo filled his men in about the Hearts, and the Hearts likewise turned to their captain for information.

Anko was very impressed by Sabo's burn. "Should I get a scar like that? Would it make me look even more rugged?"

"You couldn't pull it off," Penguin told him, and immediately deflected the punch.

"Bitch! My eye!"

"Wait," Sophie said suddenly. She took Hai Xing's hand and dragged him over to the revolutionaries. She stopped in front of the stern yellow soldierfishman. "Hack-san, meet Hai Xing. Hai Xing, this is Hack-san! Cook, fishman karate instructor!"

Hack blinked.

Hai Xing blinked back. A grey flush crept up his neck, and thorny spines appeared across his forehead.

"A young echinoderm," Hack said in awe. "Brother, I haven't met one of you in a while!"

The wary demeanor between the pirates and revolutionaries faded as they watched the two fishmen talk. Soon, both sides were introducing themselves.

"You guys just cause mayhem to the World Government whenever you want?" Penguin asked. "Respect."

"That was some crazy shit you pulled off on Machinastein," said Joe. "We got word of St. Poplar, too."

The Hearts blushed. "Don't flatter us, you bastard!"

As they conversed, Anko went over to talk with the fishmen. Hack noticed the sand dollar necklace around Anko's neck. Zostera, a small, poor island in South Blue, had long used sand dollars as currency. Little known to the rest of the world, Zostera was one of a handful of human islands who had good relations with the fishfolk living on the underwater reefs beneath them. Anko looked delighted that Hack recognized it and shook his hand, and it hit Sophie that Hai Xing didn't look surprised at all, as if he had already known that.

Huh, she thought, watching Hai Xing say something that was no doubt sarcastic and vaguely ominous. Anko responded by throwing his blue-tattooed arm over his shoulders, flicking off that newsboy hat, and mussed his ink-black hair.

Sophie glanced at Law to gauge his opinion. The expression on his face made her think he was perfectly alright with not leaving immediately.

"Travelers! Blown in from the north!" A wrinkled face popped up from a barrel. "Little beating hearts gravitating around your sun, but he is no sun, is he? Was once a dead thing, still half-rotted. Ha! A devil in the flesh!"

"Ma Reets, go bother a pebble," Sophie snapped.

"Destiny reeks on you, oh deathly prince of cheating death," she sneered, her three working teeth wiggling.

Sophie rolled her eyes and took Law by the elbow, missing a peculiar look flashing over his face, and walked him a few yards away. "Ignore the village madwoman." He made a remark about having plenty of experience with her. "Hilarious, you knob. Here, look at this. There's this weird stone I found in the lake past those trees." She tapped her finger on a page in her journal and Law bent down. "Have you heard of Poneglyphs before?"

He looked harder. "What is it?"

"A mystery. A secret. Something to learn."

At first she thought he was looking at her like she was a tad bit insane. Then he was simply looking at her, and then they weren't talking about the Poneglyph at all. The unfair thing about Law was that he was so far removed from the common definition of rakish that it naturally looped back around and went full-circle.

His expression shifted, grew a little heavy-lidded. A heat rose up her neck. She thought of a million ways to break this abruptly tense silence and found herself unable to speak any of them. Her determination to be Cool and Unflappable and Totally Moved On was crushed when he was looking at her like that. A feeble part of her suggested that maybe now, after some time apart, he was seeing her differently, maybe she looked a little lovelier with the flowers in her hair…

But Law's face shut again and he looked back at her journal. "Is it some kind of language?"

"Um," Sophie said awkwardly, also looking away, "yeah, I—I think so…"

"Alchemist!"

Sophie couldn't walk over to Sabo fast enough, and ducked under the tent flap that he raised for her. The inside of the commander's tent glowed orange with flickering oil lamps, a welcoming warmth to the cool evening.

"I said Alchemist."

"I heard you," Law said as he followed behind Sophie, eyeing the crates filled with weapons and dirty bowls of food strewn around. A group of villagers—she saw Itu of the general store and her blacksmith grandfather—stood with the revolutionaries, looking tense and worried. They were so focused on something that hardly anyone batted an eye at the appearance of the Surgeon of Death.

Koala was sitting at Sabo's desk, listening to a black, sneaky-looking Den Den Mushi. They had tapped into the Marines' communication line. "Marines are sending more forces to Omiramba. They're planning on occupying the island."

"We're bombing the fleet at dawn," Sabo announced, and the villagers looked dismayed and horrified at the thought of war. "We'll establish a post here and declare Omiramba Revolutionary territory once and for all."

"The World Government's hunting for the Poneglyph," Sophie muttered to Law. "I don't really know why My hypothesis is there's something on it that could potentially destroy them and maybe also start a cataclysmic war."

"So no big deal, then," Law said.

Sabo faced the pirates. "I'm not asking for your help. But if you wanted to attack the marines for their loot and we happened to strike them at the same time, it'd work in both our favors."

The Heart captain replied, "Pay me."

Sabo smiled. "Can you put a price on liberation?"

"Three hundred thousand beli."

"That was a rhetorical question."

"You're not very liquid for a grown man who wears a top hat."

"Like that dead furball on your head is any better."

"Children, please," Koala snapped. "Shut up or take it outside."

Sophie likewise sent them an irritated glare. Sabo fiddled with the brim of his hat. Law crossed his arms. "Ex-rich boys," she said to Koala.

"Oi," said Law and Sabo. They glanced at each other, frowning identically.

"There's no other choice," said the old blacksmith. "So be it. We'll fight. What do you say, Ma Reets?"

"Hmph," said Ma Reets, and Sophie shrieked and jumped in Koala's lap. The old woman in her dirty headscarf slouched around, out of her barrel, armless and hacking up spit. "They bring a wind to Omiramba. This stagnation has lasted centuries. It is time to live again."

Her words were met with hesitant looks and determined nods. The villagers muttered about preparations, sending the children and elderly to Bohibidu Town.

Koala blinked at Sophie, who was clutching the other girl's muscled shoulders and was now pretending that if she remained very still on Koala's lap, she wouldn't see her. "Scary old ladies in barrels. I understand."

Sophie toppled off her lap zero dignity.

Her captain was back to trading biting insults with Sabo. Itu was saying they would fight to the bitter end. Sophie looked around at the worried faces and tapped her fingers to her mouth. Then she pushed the tent flap up, peering at the silhouettes of the stone giants rising over the trees. Maybe…

"I have a plan," Sophie proclaimed, but Law set a hand on her shoulder.

"This isn't our battle. We're leaving."

"Eh? But…" She knew her captain had a single-minded determination when it came to his goals. Which usually meant he spared little thought to the predicaments of others, unless something was in it for him. "But… I thought you were having a good time with the half-burnt banana."

"You want to say that again?" Law said flatly.

Sabo's smile twitched. "You want to say that again."

"Boy wants to know more about Poneglyph," Ma Reets rasped. "Shall tell him what Ohara whispers."

The bribe was obvious, but it worked. Law took one look at Sophie's gasp and the blatant surprise on Sabo's face. There were few things in life that could hold his interest when he was focused on other matters, but words like Ohara and cataclysmic war were a safe bet when it came to his curiosity (and also awake craniotomy, but two for three was still good).

"Your plan," Law said to Sophie.

"I was thinking…" She nodded at the silhouettes over the trees.

Catching on, Sabo looked dubious. "How would that work?"

"He'll move 'em." She pointed at Law, who silently accepted this role by virtue of not saying anything to interrupt her.

"They'll call you on your bluff.

"All warfare is based on deception," Sophie replied.

"She has a point," Koala cut in. "Anything is better than an all-out attack. Lower casualties."

"Vinegar and baking soda makes CO2 gas," Sophie mumbled rapidly. "Compress it under high pressure to make solid carbon dioxide. The tanks on the Polar Tang that could theoretically do that."

"Chief," said another officer. "Do you trust her? She may be a pirate now, but she was World Government before."

Sabo held her gaze, this woman who had committed the sin of killing a World Noble, who had debated with him about the role of government until the small hours of the morning. "This better work."

Sophie nodded determinedly. She raised her hands to her eye, thumb and index finger outstretched like she was looking through a picture frame. "Let's set the scene. We open on a fleet of marines, waking up to an unusually misty morning…"

—

Standing on the deck of his battleship, Rear Admiral Catacombo peered through his telescope. It was an unusually misty morning.

The white coat of justice curled behind him and a cup of lukewarm coffee warmed his other hand. The heavy fog turned the landscape grey and inscrutable. Echoing sounds of marines going about their morning chores bouncing around eerily.

He was a middle-aged marine, experienced in war and not patience; every day he spent observing the island of Omiramba deepened his mustached frown. A fighter like him was meant to battle pirates on the high seas, not shoot down random and meaningless merchant vessels in a bid to scare an equally random and meaningless island… but orders were still orders. Who was he to question the wishes of the World Government?

The lookout on the crow's nest called down that they were in danger of going off-course. Now, perhaps a proper Rear Admiral would have felt something askew. The skies had been clear and balmy for weeks; weather conditions didn't call for sudden fog. But Rear Admiral Catacombo tapped his foot, cursing the unpredictability of the Grand Line, and would not tolerate waiting hours for the fog to lift.

He gave the order to the ten other frigates under his command to follow his lead. The main ship, his ship, fitted with gorgeous mahogany and built by the best shipwrights in Marineford, sailed forward, slowly and carefully.

Waves lapped up the sides of smaller boats. Unbeknownst to Rear Admiral Catacombo, an armada of fishing boats had surrounded the fleet in the dead of night, carrying towering loads of dry ice. Fog swirled from these boats as they sailed silently on the outskirts of the fleet.

Then, emerging from the fog, five giants stood on the coast of Omiramba.

They were colossal-sized, wielding claymores as large as a ship's mast.

Rear Admiral Catacombo's cup of coffee shattered. His men yelled. Similar screams echoed from the ships behind. Just one of those monsters had the raw strength to decimate the entire fleet. He hadn't known there were giants on this island.

But if he had paid attention to the legends of this country, he might've heard about a great war between gods of fire and lightning that sundered the land apart, a warrior of blinding beauty who had turned an army of giants into stone just by blowing a kiss. He might've also heard about a legend of a lost queen who had been taken to Mariejois as treasure, but who told her people to guard the secret stone in her lake until their dying breaths.

"WE ARE THE GUARDIANS OF OMIRAMBA," came five voices, one of which was the owner of the self-proclaimed best general store this side of Paradise, and the deepest of which sounded distinctly similar to a certain polar bear mink, "AND YOU WILL LEAVE THIS LAND."

Rear Admiral Catacombo roared, "Fire!"

Broadside cannons fired.

In a flash of blue, the mortar shells reappeared over their heads. A battleship collapsed, marines jumping overboard.

A blue glow hovered over one giant. Another giant crackled with lightning, sparking bolts flashing from its stone mouth. The giant in the middle was more stately, holding its stone claymore upright. A figure standing on its shoulder dropped a lit match, and the oil-soaked blade pointing toward the sky burst in flames. At the same time, another match was flicked from a fishing boat, spreading over a line of whale oil on the ocean.

A wall of fire exploded in front of the Marine battleships. Red petals drifted through the fog and alighted on sails, burning open holes. The marines were coughing from the smoke, several screaming as the pyreflowers landed on them and they caught fire.

As the marines were distracted, two fishmen swam beneath the main battleship and pulled open the corks of test tubes. The mixture inside was made from the scales of the lighter-than-air floating fish of Noctiluca Atoll and combined with a recipe of hydrogen peroxide and yeast that a certain chemist used as an inflatable bouncing cushion. Once released from the test tubes, they expanded rapidly and the fishmen dove away.

The ship beneath Rear Admiral Catacombo's feet rumbled. It lurched. It was… lifting up in the air. It rose higher and higher, sitting atop fat, buoyant cotton balls that looked like enormous puffy clouds of sheep.

Multiple veins popped on the Rear Admiral's forehead. One of the clouds had the audacity to have two black dots for eyes and a curving line for a mouth. It looked like it was smiling at him.

A blue slash from a sword, and—

The sheep-clouds split apart.

A battleship, falling from the sky.

An echoing THUD, water slamming, distant shouting, hazy spots of fire. In the chaos, shrouded by fog and hearing the terrifying sound of screams, the remaining ships turned tail. Rear Admiral Catacombo, once he was fished aboard, spluttering and his coat missing, would report back that Omiramba was under the protection of giants and it was his wise recommendation to leave them be, seeing as how the casualties would be enormous if they ever tried to occupy the island. Also, he was putting in an immediate request for a transfer.

The Revolutionary Army and Omirambans watched the fleeing battleships from their humble fishing boats.

Standing on a giant's stone palm, Koala lifted up her goggles. "The papers were right about you, Alchemist. You really can work wonders."

Above her on the mossy claymore's handle, a frizzy-haired chemist scribbled the results of her experiment in her journal. Her eyes shimmered with reflected fire, watching the flag of the blue gull burn as it sank into the ocean.

—

"Bepo! Bepoooo!"

Through his tent, Sabo could hear the village kids chanting and laughing as they chased after the furriest pirate with jars of paint.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he spun the receiver of a Den Den Mushi in his hand for something to do. Trying to make sense of how they had handled the Marine fleet felt just as ridiculous as it had been watching it. His work here was done. They would give Impala Noka a direct line to the Revolutionary Army in case the World Government came back, but… that was all that was left to do.

Weeks of planning and deliberation to avoid upsetting the careful balance of a neutral island being pestered by the World Government… all bedeviled by a girl with a hundred chemical elixirs up her ass and insane ideas that she somehow jerry-rigged into working. Sabo considered pirates a more chaotic breed of danger compared to marines, but today, instead of losing lives, it had just cost him three barrels of peruro whale oil.

Dialing a number, he leaned back on his chair and rested his muddy boots on the desk. He listened to his officers scraping up crates and taking down tents.

Perhaps it was some kind of shameless 'nothing to lose' mentality. She didn't fight with the lives of hundreds if not thousands of people upon her shoulders. Another reason why pirates tended to irritate him—the lack of responsibility, the general murderous disregard for human life.

Sabo pondered the bugs flying around the ceiling of his tent. Maybe he was being too hard on her. She had grinded her old life to dust under her heel. What could be heavier than choosing self-annihilation? Even though it felt like he only had the dreams of someone else's memories, he knew that look in her eye, of setting ablaze a flag that was once yours. He knew it down to his bones.

"…Sabo, report," said the Den Den Mushi.

He shook his head, waking himself up. "Efforts were successful. The best possible scenario has happened. There were no casualties. That's… the extent of what I can explain right now."

"I look forward to a later report. It's about time you finish your business in Omiramba and head back."

"Right, we'll be on our…"

The tent flap lifted, sending a beam of light into his half-lidded eyes.

Sabo kicked his feet off his desk and sat up.

She stepped inside, peeling her hair out of its disheveled braid, the painted stars on her eyelids running from sweat and only traces of blue and white now. Her fingers tapped together, expression hesitant. "Could… we talk for a minute?"

Sabo was already gesturing at an empty chair. She sat down and scrupulously rearranged the ink jars on his desk. Then she glanced at the black Den Den Mushi with a dark red stripe along its left eye, and he remembered he was still on the phone.

"Sorry 'bout the interruption, Dragon-san," Sabo said into the receiver. "I have a visitor. Strangways Sophie."

She went rigid.

"You," rumbled the deep, commanding voice of Dragon the Revolutionary, "have come a long way."

She couldn't say anything for several seconds, and finally blurted out, "You… you know w-who I am?"

"A traitor scientist who fought the World Government. We've been paying attention."

She was staring at the Den Den Mushi like it was about to transform into the man himself, infamous red tattoo and all. It amused Sabo to no end.

"Or, I should say… a soldier of heaven who has killed a god."

Blue eyes flicked up at Sabo. Her burned hands formed into fists. "Entertained, I hope," she said, forcing her voice to steady.

"A pirate simply chasing freedom or a firebrand that shakes the world. Which will have you inherited? That is what I seek to understand."

"I… I'm not out here trying to save the masses." Her face was pink with discomfort and indignation at the notion of her being a good person. "I just… acted selfishly to do something I thought should happen, and because I didn't think anyone else would. That's all."

"Spoken like a pirate. But your actions have resounded much louder."

Her nose scrunched up in a petulant scowl (Sabo felt an ominous prickle on his spine that was both entirely new and somehow deeply familiar—) "Don't think we're friends." She seized the receiver. "I got a problem with you, buster. You're Straw Hat Luffy's dad, right? What the heck is wrong with you?"

"Oi!" Sabo yanked the receiver back. She hissed like an indignant cat.

"You know how pirates are made? When their p-parents run off to form a paramilitary organization! Hey, stop it, I'm not done—Dragon! You were in Vira that day, weren't you? Your ship almost killed me! I was poisoned by a pirate with a foot fetish because of you! Watch your back, you husky-voiced felon." Sophie clutched the receiver in Sabo's hand, practically wrenching him over the desk, and shouted, "As god as my witness, I will go through your garbage and take something of semi-important value!"

Sabo slammed the receiver down.

Far away, the Supreme Commander of the Revolutionary Army stood on the stone balcony of his Baltigo fortress, his cloak billowing in the changing winds. He murmured to himself, "I believe I was just reprimanded by a young woman who threatened to steal my trash."

In the village of Impala Noka, Sabo considered murder. Not a lot. Small. Tiny homicide.

"He'll get over it. He's the worst criminal in the world. 'Absent father' cannot be the worst insult he's ever heard." Sophie flopped down on her chair, and her irritated gaze turned a little dreamy. "I can't believe it," she breathed, running an absent finger down her jaw. "Dragon the Revolutionary knows my name… am I officially famous?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he said tersely. "It's our business to know."

Her eyes brightened. "What else did you say about me?"

"Vengeful, stubborn, spiteful, a war criminal—"

"Hey, I thought we were past that."

Sabo wasn't lying; it was what he reported. What he didn't report was: she was kinder than she wanted to be, she had cried when he thanked her, and she had called his scar beautiful and thus was at least a little clinically insane. "Weren't you here to talk about something?"

"Right. I—" She coughed slightly and rubbed her throat.

His hand twitched. Arm uncurling, Sabo tossed her his water canteen. It spun in the air like the hands of a clock flying backwards, the worn metal cap glinting a dull, deep red under the barren sun of Vira.

—

In the middle of no man's land, a revolutionary came across a medic.

The dusty howling wind whipped his coat around his legs. The landscape was cratered, destroyed by mortar shell explosions. It went on for miles and miles. A marine was running through the smoke—dodging through the hail of mortars from both sides. Coils of yellow caught around her shoulders, pulled by the hot sulfur-winds.

He moved.

(He didn't quite know why, maybe it was a shift of wind, maybe it was the red cross armband—)

He seized the back of her shirt, mortars exploding behind him, and threw her against a bombed-out husk of a wall (this had been a village once, before the riots).

"You're," the medic breathed, wincing against brick, "you."

He came out of the dust in his top hat, black coat, and metal pipe: as it was in all the stories. There were already rumors spreading about the young Chief of Staff. He was as ruthless as the scar on his face. On his own, he had the strength of a thousand men. He strode up to her like a harbinger of death, torn at the edges, singed and bloodstained.

She drew her pistol on him. Lightning scattered over the desolate horizon.

It was an amusing sight. Her face was covered in dirt and limp strands of bloody hair. She was hardly capable of standing straight.

He pointed at her water canteen. With a shaking hand, she slowly unhooked it from her belt and tossed it to him. He unscrewed the cap and poured it into his mouth. It was disgustingly lukewarm and tasted like dirt, but he didn't care. He poured the rest over his face and shook the droplets off.

She raised her gun and fired. The bullet glanced off his Armament Haki.

Huh. That was brave for a medic.

"Ouch," he said, and started pulling open the pouches on her belt, rummaging through until he found rolls of bandages. That'd last him a few hours. He stuffed the bandages in his pocket and dropped the canteen at her feet. "I have a question for you, Hexhead. How do you think this will end?"

The medic, who had frozen, jerked slightly upon being addressed. She stared at him. There was no light in those eyes. "The World Government will be victorious. We will destroy the enemy through any means possible. Our marines will run at you wearing bombs before we lose a war. We are prepared to die."

"Start dying, then." What a waste of time. On a whim, he added, "Cut your hair. So much of it a disadvantage."

Something sparked. Every trembling ounce of her homed into fury. "Did y-you grab me just to drink my water, steal m-my bandages, and insult my hair?"

He stopped, then rolled his pipe off his shoulder. Fair point.

Mortar shells whistled through the air.

She scrambled through the debris, firing blindly behind her. In one stroke, he could've bashed her skull in. But he didn't. With flames roaring around them, he let her escape. Perhaps because she was a medic. Perhaps he was tired, and she was just another mindless husk he'd never meet again. Perhaps. He lowered his pipe as she retreated, stopping a healthy distance away to shoot him one last look over her shoulder, before vanishing into the dust.

A few days later, a loud boom rocked the dusty fields. Marines and revolutionaries alike paused in battle.

Sabo looked up.

The sky had gone red.

On the other side of Vira, Sophie was sitting in a cart carrying wounded soldiers back to the base. Red mushroom clouds rose over the hills. The marine leading the cart told her not to mind it, and that Vice Admiral Lettidore was expecting her to arrive safe and sound.

—

After she finished saying her part, Sophie drew her knees up on her chair. She ran her fingers along the edge of the water canteen's cap. "I've been thinking about it for a while now. We're heading to Sabaody, then the New World, so this might be my only chance. Do you… think it's worth it?"

His stance was contemplative, arms crossed, eyes shut. "It won't change anything. That doesn't mean it wouldn't be worth doing."

Sophie supposed that was true. She set the canteen back on his desk. "I'm not eager to tell my crew… but I know they'll understand."

"Why," Sabo inquired carefully, "would you tell me before your captain?"

"He's going to say I'm an idiot. I wanted to know your thoughts, being an objective party. So?"

"You are an idiot," he agreed without hesitation. "If you were one of my officers, there's no way in hell I'd let you go through with it." He pondered for another moment as she grimaced. "Though… you've done it before. And you survived."

"Exactly!"

"But you really want to return to the house you left? Even I'd be hesitant."

"Lately I've been wondering if leaving is about something more than running away." She picked at a scab on her palm, the bottom of her feet pressed into the wicker chair, and only looked up when she heard a disbelieving sort of laugh.

"If only the Gorosei and the top brass of the World Government were capable of change like you."

"I'm not an exception. It's possible for anyone to—"

"No, it isn't." It was a calm, almost gentle rebuttal. "I've been fighting them for years. Those old warmongering bastards aren't capable of having even a moment of self-reflection." Then he glanced at her, cinnamon-brown and lucid. "But… I don't think I mind hearing you say it."

After finding her tongue, Sophie said, "Ew."

"Yeah, that was revolting," Sabo said, looking off in deep regret. "Let's forget I said anything."

"You must be good at that," she couldn't resist joking, grinning at him. "Come on, there's one last matter to take care of."

—

With the stone giants gone, the clear surface of the lake was mirror-like. An armless old woman sat on the riverbank, listening to the animals.

The Hearts eyed her apprehensively, having crossed paths with quite a few old ladies who were not what they appeared to be. After Sophie summarized the Poneglyph to her crew, hoping they'd understand how fascinating this was to her, they were also intrigued by the notion of a strange stone carrying a mysterious language. They had leaped into the lake and went to go see it for themselves, and were now wringing out their boiler suits. They were uncharacteristically quiet, the awe of it bewitching them into silence.

Except for Anko, who looked Sabo in the face and said, "Hot, hot, hot. You fuckers, I'd totally look good with a scar like that."

"Surgeon," said Sabo.

Law pretended to be oblivious. "Is there a problem?"

"Okay," said Koala, patting Sabo as he opened his mouth again. "Let's focus, kids."

Sophie knelt down in the grass and Ma Reets peeled a lazy eye open. "The Oharan scholars told you what was on that Poneglyph," Sophie said politely. "Could I ask what it said?"

"Why do lost children deserve knowing?"

"This riddle again," Sabo muttered.

"There's an easier way of making her talk." Law nudged open Kikoku with a flick of his thumb.

Sabo reached for his metal pipe, smiling. "Try that, why don't you—"

"Can you two," Koala sang, "calm the absolute bloody fuck down, please."

"Hey, Val," said Anko, waving a finger between them, "for the good of the group, the two prettiest men should sacrifice ourselves."

"Damn," Valross sighed, "you're right." He turned to Hai Xing. "What do you think, should we strip?"

Kamasu bonked the two troublemakers with his wrench.

"The ocean belongs to everyone," Hai Xing said, and Ma Reets' ambivalent expression flickered.

Oh, Sophie thought. I get it. She wanted to know what that Poneglyph was to them. If it a symbol of some cool, enigmatic mystery, or if it was a way to help the Revolutionary Army change the world… but there was a greater philosophy at work here. A philosophy about worth and merit and those in the World Government who wished to keep the ocean locked in chains.

"The truth of this world is something we're all owed," Sophie said, understanding now, "on the basis of having been born into this world."

Ma Reets pulled off her headscarf with her toes. It fell to the ground, and all three of her eyes—the two placed above her nose and the one sitting in the middle of her forehead—seemed to smile. At the sight of her, the pirates yelled. Koala clapped her hands over her mouth.

"That," she said, "is correct."

Sophie gasped. "E-eh? A Three-Eyed!?"

"Never seen one in the flesh before," Sabo murmured.

"I thought there were none left in Paradise," Law remarked.

"We are few, but not gone." Sunlight cut across her serene eyes. "The Oharan scholars told me the Poneglyph speaks of a prince descended from the jaguar emperors of Old Machinastein. This is what is written on the stone we have protected for centuries."

She closed her eyes. Her voice rang out, thin and reedy.

"'We who guard the secrets of the Great Kingdom carry this message into the future. The prince of mechanical flight laid his prototype to rest in the ocean. Lightning and wind shall wake the slumbering beast, and alongside the great weapons Pluton, Uranus, and Poseidon, the war-machine Apolleon will unleash fields of fire upon the world.'"

Silent thunder rose in the air as she spoke.

"But that's…" Penguin began.

"It woke up!" Shachi said excitedly. "Cat's Eye Island. It was this automaton… this huge flying machine! There was an entire city on its back!"

"The writing has come to pass," Ma Reets agreed. "The wind sings of islands in the sky."

"I've heard merfolk tales of Poseidon as a child," Hai Xing said. "Bedtime stories about a mermaid who can communicate with Sea Kings."

"Are… you saying Cat's Eye Island is still alive?" Crawling forward, Sophie grasped the edge of her dirty tunic. "And the people on it, they're a-alive, too?"

"Futile question. Cannot say."

A hand was on her arm, pulling her up. Sophie hardly felt him; she kept staring beseechingly at Ma Reets as though that would change her answer. She almost missed Law asking, "The Great Kingdom, is it different from the Twenty Kingdoms? The noble families that founded the World Government? The Celestial Dragons?"

"Does this," Sophie added, "have to do with the Void Century?"

"The study of history has long been outlawed in seas this close to the Holy Land," Ma Reets said. "I can only speak what scholars said. But there is one more line. Many years ago, the Pirate King came onto this island. A strangely-dressed man in his crew deciphered it, and Gold Roger himself told me the true history will be found at the very end of the New World. Laugh Tale."

And that was that.

The Hearts went on. Sabo and Koala, too, had heard what they came for. But as the rest left through the reeds, Sophie stood still. Her mind was racing. She wasn't ready to just move on from these various revelations. Ma Reets was muttering to a flock of grey birds as if they were friends.

Law, also stopping, called her name. She didn't turn around.

"Are you some kind of mystic?" A strange, starstruck light glimmered across Sophie's face, made her alien with yearning. "Was Gold Roger, too? Tell me. I want to know."

"I see," Ma Reets said deliberately, "a desperate hunger in you. There is so much about yourself you will never know, so you seek to learn everything else. But knowing will make you toss your swords in the air and cut off your own arms because you have heard fate whisper greatness is not meant for you."

"That is," Sophie said, after a dry pause, "a pretty messed-up theory to test."

"Fate won. Knowledge will drive you mad. Such is destiny."

"Destiny?" she scoffed as Law appeared by her side. He looked faintly exasperated that she was still talking to the madwoman. "How unscientific! Pirates chose freedom. I do as I will. And what's the problem with learning about interesting things? There's no living without learning, Ma Reets."

The sharpness of her grin made Sophie feel as if she knew nothing. "A promised wind is blowing from the east. The will of D shall shake the world."

Will of—what? Is that a joke? A hold on Sophie's hand tightened. "Ow," she hissed, more out of alarm than pain, and Law let go. She paused, blinking at him.

"Boy who cannot seem to die," Ma Reets sang. "Within you sings a squall of providence."

He aimed for Sophie's wrist this time, fingers curling around it. "Let's go," Law said, and she didn't know if the little jolt up her spine was because of his touch or the strange look on his face.

Before Sophie could ask what was wrong with him, Ma Reets said, "Why does girl care about history?"

Even with Law tugging on her wrist a little, she didn't move. A memory came to her. From Toa Sang Bay, spoken by the pirate known as Blackbeard… "For orphans without an island, our history is the history of the world."

"A dangerous answer." More grey birds flew down from the sky, gathering around Ma Reets. "The migratory birds tell a story. Black-ash petrels from Banaro Island, singing a death song."

"…Banaro? Wait—what? How d-do you know?"

"They talk. I listen. I am always listening. The song of fate is weak in you, but the sea is loud. Children of the ocean will always carry her blessing." Her elbow stump lifted, and a petrel landed lightly there. "Perhaps the greatest gift of all is to have no certain destiny… then even nothing-girls could forge themselves into something grand."

The way she turned her small brown head to the light was a little sad, as though she was watching fate weave itself into a tapestry.

"Sorry about your arms, Ma Reets." Sophie turned to follow Law, feeling like she was saddled with more questions than answers. "And thanks for the advice, even if I didn't understand any of it."

"Pray that you never do," came the reply, and the Three-Eyed woman said no more.

—

"Traveler!" Itu called, running up to her. "You're the Alchemist of the Heart Pirates, right? I heard your face was uglier than a brick of shit and that's why you wear the mask!"

Ah, Sophie's favorite rumor…

Regardless, Itu thanked her for her help. They felt safer with their guardians standing there, but she also declared her island would get stronger so they could properly defend themselves next time. Then she took out three fuzzy, grey fruit about the same size as a peach and offered them to the chemist. "I've never found a use for these, but you might. Every few years, a stone fruit grows in the mouths of those giants. The pit inside is filled with a substance that turns living things to stone. Ah, but saltwater reverses the effect!"

"H-how fascinating!" Sophie gasped, examining them. "It sounds like a Devil Fruit."

"If the legends are to be believed, Omiramba was once filled with war and magic and blood. I wonder if Fruit users leave traces on this world after they're gone." Itu clasped her hands together and smiled. "Romantic, don't you think? The ghosts of gods still walk among us."

Goosebumps trailed down Sophie's arms. "I once traveled to an island where it would snow for ten years before a month of spring came."

"Maybe a snow-woman died there and grew winter from her bones."

"Maybe," she agreed, pocketing the grey fruit with an appreciative smile. "Take care, Itu-san, owner of the best general store this side of Paradise."

Five giants stood on the coast of Omiramba, swords at the ready, an eternal warning. Sunlight spilled over their unyielding stone hands. As if they had frozen in time defending something precious.

Sophie pulled out Kirkira Iska and saluted them with the Omiramban-forged knife.

The Hearts had been attacked by the village kids, and were now covered in painted flowers and animals. Shachi was particularly proud of the shark on his bicep. Ships were setting sail to the west immediately, filled with goods to trade now that the embargo was gone. The Revolutionary Army was packing up their things on carts lugged by wildebeest. Koala stopped loading up a cart to wish Sophie safe travels.

"Be careful. Sabaody is crawling with World Nobles."

"I'll try not to kill another one."

"If you tried, I wouldn't stop you." Koala punched her lightly on the shoulder and grinned. She adjusted her hat and leaned forward, cobalt eyes bright. "You're alright, Alchemist. If you ever want to jump in my lap again—"

"Okay, thank you," Sophie said through gritted teeth, blushing to her ears.

Peals of laughter rang out, causing heads to swivel to their orange-haired officer.

On the outskirts of Impala Noka, a figure in a top hat was waiting. Desert wildflowers bowed gently in the breeze. As Sophie and Law drew near, she asked good-humoredly if he was here to see her off.

Sabo turned, his black coat curling around his legs. "Not at all. I was simply admiring the…" He looked around. "Dung beetles."

"I noticed you weren't surprised when you learned about the Poneglyph," Law said. "Any reason for that?"

"I've already heard the myth about the great weapons, and that the stones lead to where One Piece lies." Sabo shrugged with a faint smirk. "You make a lot of connections when you're this high in an army."

"You must have some stake in finding it," he returned. "If it can topple the World Government."

"Right now, it's a shot in the dark. We're more focused on immediate matters, dictators to overthrow and people to liberate. But one day, I believe someone will find the truth and tell the world. And it'll light a revolution throughout the ocean."

"You should try recruiting Nico Robin," Sophie suggested, and loudly whispered to Law, "Apparently, she can read the language. Sole survivors of islands sure are talented."

"Alright," her captain said curtly, and touched her back. "Don't keep us waiting." He went on ahead to their crew.

Grinning slightly, Sophie glanced back at Sabo.

"Your book," he said after a pause. "It's decent writing." He touched his scarred brow. "A long time ago, I think I… might've also wanted to write something."

She tilted her head. "About?"

He seemed to struggle with that. "I don't know," Sabo said eventually. "But it must've been something good."

Sophie's shoulders dropped a little, loosening the last of their guard. "I'm sure it was." With a tiny smile, she lifted her hand. From now on, she was going to plant roots that ran deeper than the graves. "It's okay if you still hate me, but I'm done hating you."

His arm raised a few inches… and Sabo paused to take off his glove.

His bare hand clasped hers. He touched her without even a recoil from the texture of her burns. His palm was warm. Callused and broad and a little sweaty. The wind shifted, blowing petals in the air. Instead of mortar shells falling around them, there were now flowers.

Letting go, Sabo brought out a small piece of paper from his pocket. "Take this."

Sophie turned it over, but it was blank.

"It's my vivre card."

She almost flung it back into his face. "W-wait, what? Seriously? Are you sure?" Sophie stared in astonishment, moving the piece of paper around. No matter where she moved it, the corner always pointed towards Sabo. She looked at him in concern. "Th-this means you're letting me crash on your couch and annoy you whenever I want. You know that, right?"

He cocked his head with a grin. "At least give me a few days before I start regretting it."

"But! Th-this is really important—"

His hands covered her fingers, curling them over the paper. "Whatever happens in the future, you'll probably need to find me again. Keep it safe."

Sabo was undoubtedly a good commander. He valued his officers' lives enough to trust her plan, and he fought to free the world from its tyrannical rulers. He never had to extend even a drop of kindness towards her. He was a good commander, and he didn't have to be anything more. Yet he was also the pleasant stranger in the ruins, the educated political insurgent, the ex-noble who also turned his back on his home… and, actually, a wonderful person.

"…Thank you."

Sabo nodded crisply, a casual gesture. As though it was no big deal, he gave away vivre cards all the time to hostile women who tried to kill him. "I'll let your teacher know you said goodbye."

"No," she said at once. "Please tell Hippo-sensei… we'll meet again."

"I'll do that."

His hair was covering his scarred eye. Her fingers itched desperately. "Ah… if you don't mind…" She leaned forward, lifting onto her tiptoes, and pushed the lock of blond hair behind his burned, twisted nub of an ear. The yellow strands swept across his forehead, displaying his scar.

A spasm rippled where his left eyebrow would've been. His paler eye followed slightly behind his good one as he stared.

Sophie quickly pulled her arm back. She clasped her hands together and admired that scarlet and savage burn. It was crooked and lumpy and slashed down the side of his face to his jaw. His fair skin puckered around it, the edges flaked with dry patches, and his two eyes were never fully in sync. A quiet sigh left her. "There. Lovely."

"You make me want to retch," Sabo told her.

"Shut up. I was talking about your scar, not you."

He smiled. It spread across his face, terribly sincere. "Don't die before we can continue our debate, Sophie."

She ran through the wildflowers, then turned and yelled, "Sabo! I'd never miss an opportunity to win an argument against you!"

He lifted his top hat, his coat flapping in the bright meridian sky.

—

An ocean away, birds were singing again in Vira. The land was overflowing with lush fields of grass and fresh water; amidst the doctors administering aid and the islanders rebuilding their villages, a hush swept over the restless echoes of the dead, as if they had come to terms.

—

The Red Line was magnificent.

Waves crashed into the Polar Tang, rocking it back and forth. That didn't stop any Heart from standing on the deck to gawk at the massive land bridge, the only continent on earth that spanned its circumference.

The evening sky was sapphire-bright and the stars were coming out in all their infinity. Beneath the constellations of the crown and the heavenly sword was Mariejois, standing at the top of the highest point in the world. Sophie leaned out into the ocean spray, finding the constellation of the gull. Beneath that was the seat of Commander-in-Chief Kong and Fleet Admiral Sengoku… the immortal citadel known as Marineford.

A tattooed hand clasped her shoulder. She jumped, instinctively covering Law's fingers with her own. His gaze was asking her if she was alright. Sophie nodded, and the look in his eye softened a bit. The wind swept his black hair across his forehead as he looked back up at the Red Line, and she knew he was measuring the leagues to Donquixote Doflamingo.

—

Bubbles appeared over the ocean. Sophie saw it from the porthole in her cabin and set her quill down, having finished her to-do list for the Sabaody Archipelago. Surrounding her, glass beakers and flasks were simmering with concoctions. She quickly stirred the pewter-grey elixir made out of Omiramba's stone fruit, then raced up to the control room where her crewmates had already begun gathering.

"Shachi, call a group meeting," Law ordered. From out of nowhere, the mechanic pulled out a trumpet.

"Oh, how cute!" Sophie clapped her hands, awaiting the dulcet tones.

The most atrocious noise in existence filled the submarine.

"GROUP MEETING," the boys thundered, trooping onto the control room's deck as Shachi continued to abuse the concept of sound. "GROUP MEETING. GROUP MEETING."

…She didn't know why she expected any different.

The newspapers had come in. Nine crews with bounties over one hundred million beli were on their way to Sabaody. The papers were calling them the Eleven Supernovas. Which was just obnoxiously catchy.

"Two hundred million, Captain!" the Hearts cried in glee.

After the stunt on St. Poplar—assigned the blame of Commodore Dormio's death, outrunning Vice Admiral Garp, and a general consensus of dangerous threat—Law's bounty had risen. He looked quite pleased with it. Sophie's bounty was now sixty million (she sighed in relief; it was high, but not too high), and… Kamasu had earned himself a bounty of eleven million.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Anko bellowed at the bounty poster, which was of the lazy mechanic raising his wrench, his messy ponytail flying behind him. "He stays on the ship, you bastards!"

Kamasu fell to his knees. "Damn it! Give me back my peace as a bountyless pirate, you bastards!"

"Sorry," Uni interjected, all stiff-bodyguard posture next to Law. "I also have a bounty. I believe it was five million. Is that… bad?"

Doing damage control, Law had to stop various crewmates from jumping overboard.

Sophie rifled through the posters, specifically for the Straw Hat crew. She didn't find Usopp in the bunch. Sogeking? King of Snipers… was that Yasopp's son? Her eyes popped at Cat Burglar Nami's bounty she would just… take it before one of the boys got their paws on it… she tucked it inside her shirt, whistling innocently…

Then she picked up Nico Robin's poster. It was a profile shot, and her one visible eye was stark-blue, a hand outstretched past her bloodied face. Sophie carefully folded the poster and stuffed it in her pocket.

Another Supernova caught her eye. X Drake.

A marine traitor, just like her. She had to meet him.

"After all that we've been through," Law somehow looked cool and commanding despite dragging Anko and Kamasu behind him like pirate-shaped sacks, "fighting through marines, a Big Mom crew, Cipher Pol agents, and learning what we've learned about the Pirate King… whatever's ahead, we're ready for it. Ain't that right, men?"

"Aye, Captain!"

The mangrove trees of the Sabaody Archipelago towered in the sky. The Polar Tang had arrived at the last stop before the New World.

—

Sophie's Magnificent, Enviable, Most Perfect To-Do List:

#1: Explore! Rejoice! Relax!

—

They dropped anchor in the lawless zone and caught wind of the Kid Pirates causing mayhem in one of the other groves. Most of the Hearts went off looking for them, saying they had a debt to repay from Machinastein. Drinking competitions were a very serious matter.

After collecting some yarukiman tree resin, Sophie decided to follow Hai Xing and Anko, who were hopping up the iridescent bubbles to get a better view.

Sitting on the bubbles, they floated over the sprawling mangrove trees. She caught sight of yellow and orange—Law and Bepo, wandering around like vagrants. Faint sparkles glowed in the direction of Sabaody Park. Rainbow balloons floated up in the sky. The air was crisp and fresh, somehow always having that 'just out of the shower' scent no matter how many whiskey bottles and cigarette butts littered the grove beneath it.

She laced her hands behind her head, watching the boundless bouncing bubbles of soap. The Straw Hats weren't on Sabaody yet. She wondered if she'd be able to meet Yasopp's son. He had to be a superb gunslinger in his own right. And Nico Robin… Sophie wanted to talk the Devil Child's ear off about the Poneglyph. But if the Straw Hats weren't appearing today, then…

"You still thinkin' about it?" Anko asked, breaking her thoughts.

"What, the Poneglyph?"

"No, Cap's meat," he snorted.

"E-e-excuse me?"

"That was a joke! Fuck!" He dodged her slaps to avoid getting shoved off his bubble. "Hey, don't get weird about this, but are you… okay? All that shit about Cat's Eye, and the stuff you said about truth, and—I mean, yeah, you probably feel like garbage 'cause the World Government's been setting the world on fire."

Glowering, she crossed her arms. "Thanks, I don't think about that enough."

"Not saying it's your fault. But you're, like…"

"You've been preoccupied lately," Hai Xing pointed out.

Sophie deflated. "Sorry. I know. The ghosts are just a bit heavier. After everything we learned, isn't it… I mean, don't you also…?"

"Weapons and war and ancient mysteries," Anko summarized. "Yeah, it's awesome, but I still gotta steer the Polar Tang to the next island, and we gotta restock our kitchen, and do laundry all over again—aw, fuck, I'm on that this week. Anyway, anything beyond tomorrow is just… glitter."

"I get that." She thought about what Anko had said when they were sailing out of the Florian Triangle. You and Cap are the same. Always looking towards the horizon. Maybe… that was a little true. Sophie tapped her hands on her knees and grinned at them. "Hey, what's been going on with you two?"

"What about us?" Anko retorted.

"We are how we have always been," Hai Xing said with morose innocence, "flesh suits simply waiting to expire."

"Mmm." Anko patted his belly. "I'm hungry. Let's check out the markets."

The cook sent him a flat look. "You'll badger me about buying your favorite food instead of what's good for the crew."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll annoy you to death since you love it so much. Why don't you marry the fucker, huh?"

"The concept of eternal demise? It would be far more appealing than my current company."

Gently bickering, they popped their bubbles and landed on the grass. Anko turned around, Hai Xing waiting beside him. And for a moment, she was struck by how nice they looked together in the crisp light coming through the leaves. "Yo! You comin' or what?"

She would tell them her plan later. For now, Sophie jumped down and hooked her arms through their elbows. "For a little while," she chirped.

—

#2: Say hello to X Drake! (Bonus: invite him out for lunch!)

—

She found him in Grove 21.

Sophie strolled around, occasionally ducking flying bullets and avoiding getting pickpocketed. And then she spotted him: a man wearing a frightening amount of blue leather and a hat with a big white plume.

She leaped off her feet.

Wind burst past her and she landed in front of Red Flag. A few boozy drunks and grimy pirates looked over in interest. They saw a young woman overshoot her landing, arms windmilling, and tripped. Red Flag did not help her up. With impervious optimism, she sprang to her feet and gave the man a marine salute. "X Drake-san!"

The tip of a saber touched her chest, long and gleaming and deadly.

"Your hands reek of death," said Drake.

Sophie gasped. "Nooo, that's just my moisturizer!" As if not even seeing the saber, she waggled her fingers. "I thought I'd say hi, fellow traitor!"

X Drake stared at her.

"Oh, th-that's right! I-I'm Strangways Sophie! With the Heart Pirates!"

He gave her another look. "The Alchemist. I heard rumors of your face being…" Drake couldn't go on; clearly, he had leftover manners from his marine days.

"Boiled and horrifying? I know! Isn't it hilarious? Look at us, being so chummy already! Anyway, shall we grab some food?" Sophie trailed after the enormously tall man like an eager puppy. He was pretending he couldn't hear her as he walked away in all his clanking blueberry armor. "A strong pirate like you has gotta have money, right? You can treat me! Ehehehe!"

Drake shot her another intense frown. "Just what are your intentions with me?"

She gleefully clapped her hands. "I'd love to hear all about how you defected from the Marines! We can trade notes! That'd be fun, don't you think? And then… maybe…" Sophie wiggled, turning bashful. "We'll, like, become best friends or something… I dunno, haven't given it much thought…"

She leaned forward and smiled hopefully, blinking her lashes.

Drake turned on his heel. "You and I are not the same, Alchemist. It would be in your best interest to keep your distance from me," he said gruffly, and left with a dramatic flourish of his cape.

…That man was definitely from North Blue.

Sophie pouted and dug the toe of her boot into the ground. Pineapples. Maybe all marine traitors weren't the same.

—

#3: Find a boat!

—

It was always busy in the docks. Sailors, pirates, and merchants were constantly bustling about, crowding the piers and elbowing each other as they removed barrels and crates filled with exotic goods.

In the midst of this commotion, the foreman of a Sabaody boatbuilding company greeted his latest customer and showed her to a small, one-man boat on the pier. Espousing its great craftsmanship and excellent steering, the foreman noticed a particular add-on that did not come with the boat.

"Oi, bilge rat!" The foreman kicked the side of the hull. "Up and at 'em! You're in the way!"

The man-shaped blanket rustled. Long white hair stuck out. The bilge rat rubbed his eyes and put his chipped glasses back on. His gaze found the foreman's customer, and became decidedly lazier. "Lost your way, lass?"

The young lady nervously fluttered her scarred hands about her face. "E-eh?"

The foreman wasn't having any of this. "You filthy drunkard! Go back to your old lady's place and sleep there!"

Offering to help, his customer reached over and pulled said filthy drunkard up with a strong tug. The foreman huffed loudly, tapping his foot, missing how old man blinked as he looked over the young woman.

She had vibrant eyes and extravagantly disheveled curls. The foreman thought she might've been a pirate, but couldn't picture her face on any bounty poster. He was sure he would've remembered a face like that. Still, he felt the impulse to protect her from old Silvers Rayleigh. "Get on, get going!"

"Well, well, excuse this geezer. Bad back, you know." As he passed by her, Rayleigh clapped a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Not many islands 'round here that you can sail to a little boat like that. Take care in rough waters."

"Oh! I'll try my best, mister!" she said.

"If you like her, she's all yours," said the foreman, and beli exchanged hands. He counted and was satisfied with it. Then he gave the young woman another, more concerned glance. "That old ship coater might be a sly fox, but he's right. Where exactly are you heading…?"

She just smiled. A power lurked there, and the foreman was familiar with dangerous pirates to know better than to ask questions.

—

#4: Law!

—

He was sprawled over his chair, legs kicked up on his desk, a paperback book resting over his face. When she leaned on the edge of his desk, his finger twitched a quarter-inch. Sophie measured him. His chest calmly rose and fell. Behind him, the cabin's porthole was open. The occasional call of a gull and the waves gently breaking against the side of the Polar Tang sounded in the background.

After observing him for another minute, she leaned forward. "Law." She touched her lips to his ear, his earrings cool against her skin. "Wake up."

His reply was muffled by the book: "I'm having a nice dream."

She moved her mouth to the corner of his scruffy jaw. His hand found Sophie's back, intentionally brushing feather-light circles over her tank top. He was evidently much more languid about his affection in private, when it was just the two of them.

She stopped, her face half-buried in his neck. The positioning of their bodies was a little too promising for what had to happen. "I need to tell you something."

"I know what you're going to say. Yes, I can smell your bad breath."

Sophie nabbed the book off his face and tossed it over her shoulder. Law's smirk was on full display. On second thought, she should've kept the book and slapped him with it.

"Promise you won't get angry," she huffed.

He distractedly pulled at a golden curl. "What, you got another dead body you want me to bury?"

"We're so close to Marineford. If I want to talk to Sengoku, I have to do it now."

Amusement flickered. A little nudge of his mouth, twitching upwards, waiting for the punchline. Sophie's face was blank as she watched his reaction. And then his smirk left, vanished permanently. Law stood, and she had to lift her head to look up at him. For a moment, they did nothing but stare at each other.

Finally, her captain said, "You're not going."

She cracked a tiny smile at that. "It's a short trip. I'll be back soon."

There was something outraged about his expression, and then it went hysterically still; Law could challenge a corpse for Most Detached and win. His dark gaze was judging her, internally picking apart the whys and hows of her wanting to meet the Fleet Admiral of the Marines. "Talk to him about what?"

"Well…" Her forehead screwed-up in thought. "Everything?"

His eyes narrowed further. "Is this about you trying to take responsibility for everything the World Government does? Things you think you can fix?"

"It's not about fixing," Sophie said.

"It's about the Poneglyphs. And Ohara, and Flevance, and Machinastein, and Cat's Eye, and you're making it your business when you don't have to. Listen to me. You don't have to."

"They're family. And they hurt you, and they're hurting people now—"

"So hate them. Hate them and curse them until you can't breathe."

"Then what? I choke on my hate forever?"

"Given the alternative, yes!" He dug his knuckles against his brow, and his voice thinned into cold restraint. "Just because they were your family doesn't mean they give a shit about you. Just because you have Armament Haki doesn't mean you can take on an Admiral. It doesn't mean you can march into Marineford and not expect them to arrest you once they learn who you are."

"I hit G-13 when I was way weaker than I am now."

"And you almost died," Law snapped. "Do you see the fucking point I'm trying to make?"

"If you were me," she murmured in a voice that was detached and simply curious in its logic, "and if I wanted to stop you from going off and doing something dangerous for the sake of a goal, would you listen?"

Rebuttals flashed like shadows across his face. This wasn't about him. She didn't have to do anything. She didn't need answers. She could just stay on the Polar Tang, satisfied and content. Sophie had weighed the pros and cons, and concluded that it was foolish of her to want more than the universe was capable of giving her. But she couldn't help it. She was filled with want. She had been born with one hand reaching for the horizon.

Various emotions flickered across her face: determination, remorse, turmoil—and then she decidedly firmly on unwavering resolve.

"I'm sorry you ended up with such a selfish crewmate." Her whisper was apologetic, but her eyes were bright, almost joyful. "I'm not asking for your permission, Captain. I'm going. I'm coming back. We'll party."

"This is mutiny," Law said darkly.

Sophie burst out laughing.

He let her cackles go on, shoulders shaking as she bent double, hugging her stomach. Then with a terse, exasperated sigh, he lifted her chin. "Sophie—"

"Law."

"Sophie—"

"Lawrence," she mimicked in his growly voice, cheeks puffed out.

His mouth twitched, and he looked at her for another long moment. "You're not going. That's final." With that said, Law curtly picked up another book on his desk and opened it, as though the conversation was done.

"Will you try to stop me?" Sophie inquired, genuinely interested.

The hand on the book paused, his middle finger digging in the crease between the pages. "I could," he said, after a reflecting pause, "keep you here by force.

He said it as though they were discussing the weather. It wasn't so much as a threat but a fact.

Sophie considered the pirate before her, his heavy tattoos and piercings and the exquisite shape of his hand spreading apart the soft, threadbare pages in that book. The small pang of intimidation in her chest was likewise accompanied by a static charge shooting up her spine. It made her think of things young women who were raised to be virtuous and moral and pirate-killing had no business thinking of.

"And how would you do that?" she murmured, fascinated by what she was imagining.

She didn't know who moved first, but now his stubble was scratching her chin, the book had fallen to the floor, and his hands were fumbling through her hair. The kiss was over far too quickly when Law untangled himself.

"Sophie," he said with his hand on the bridge of his nose, like he was fighting off a migraine, "this isn't a threat if you're enjoying it."

"Oh, no," she murmured breathlessly, in-between pecking his mouth, "please don't—I'm so scared—you depraved monster—" Sophie broke off to pick at his choice of rumpled attire. Her nose wrinkled. "Ugh, look at this shirt. Have you heard of a clothes iron?"

Law kissed her quite brutally after that, his hands lifting up her hips, and the next thing she knew she was clumsily kicking off her boots and sitting astride him on his dubious mattress that was littered in books. His teeth grazed her bottom lip—and then bit it. Sophie was embarrassed and enthralled by the small noise that drew out of her. She felt him grin against her mouth.

He had told her they weren't going to be anything more than friends—and that was okay. The fact that she was kissing him while sitting in his lap didn't change anything. She didn't know really how it added on to it, except for the fact that once in a while she sat on his lap and kissed him. Even as Sophie thought long and hard about it, she still wouldn't know what this was; she supposed the only thing that mattered was that they were pirates.

They broke apart, breathing hard in tandem. She ran her rough, sandpaper-fingers down the black ink curving between his neck and shoulders. He took a quick, shivering breath, which captivated her. Law pressed his forehead against hers and said, quietly but firmly, "You're not leaving."

Sophie did a double take. "Are you… seducing me into staying?"

"Don't be repulsive," he muttered, and then eyed her. "Is it working?"

Filled with adoration, she touched the corner of her nose to his. Something in the back of her mind became clear. It locked into view.

"I'm sorry." Sophie cupped his face as his eyes darkened, a retort forming in his throat. "But there is something I… I don't w-want to leave before I learned th-this…" A flush grew across her cheeks. "With you."

Law looked down, feeling a tugging motion at the belt loops of his jeans. When he looked back up, Sophie had her hair pulled up in a ponytail and was tightening the ribbon. Her face was very pink, and she leaned forward in the most daring posture she could manage, planting both hands on the bed around him. It took all of her willpower not to dissolve into gloops of ex-chemist, right there on top of him.

"If it's o-okay, I mean." She was blushing to the tips of her ears, her face twitching.

He looked at her like he scarcely believed what she just said. She carefully lifted up his shirt—making sure to not get more creases on it, because she was considerate—and skimmed her hands along the black heart on his chest. She smelled his neck just because she could, and wondered if she got a whiff of destiny. Oh deathly prince of cheating death…

Sophie tentatively sidled down and lowered her head until her mouth met the ridge of his hipbones. A small hiss left him as her fingers brushed the scars on his navel. With every unsteady noise he was making (that she was making him make!), her hands stopped trembling so much and groped his back with reckless abandon, the rough denim of his jeans…

When her hands drifted to the zipper, Law grabbed her wrists. She looked up, cheeks flushed red, a long curl falling across her face. She was lying lengthwise across his bed, her ankles crossed in the air behind her, looking appallingly at ease between his legs. The sight was liable to give a weaker pirate a heart attack.

"Do you," he breathed; his eyes were dark frost, angry, frustrated, aching— "Do you know what you're doing."

At first, Sophie didn't trust herself to speak. Her chest felt molten, filled with stuttering lava. But maybe it was because she had made up her mind, or maybe because this was a distraction from the inevitable, or maybe it was the thought that no matter when and where she died, she'd always know she did this to the most vile, wicked pirate she'd ever been weak in the knees for…

With that in mind, she pressed her teeth against his inner thigh, digging them in through the denim until he tensed. Outside the open window, the sea washed up and broke against the ship.

She answered, very sensibly, "Making you wish we'd done this sooner."

That expression… oh, she wanted to eat it.

He was flicking his jeans open, his feet shoving aside books to give her more room—she was sliding down the denim as hardcovers carelessly toppled to the ground—and then it was all very calculating, the way she was investigating him. She lightly touched her teeth to his tip and it twitched harder. Maybe Law liked being tormented, too. Research was an art form and lead to wondrous discoveries.

Then, with the legacy of the World Government on her back and the ghosts of dead marines watching, she took the pirate into her mouth.

He rasped her name like a fiend, and she hadn't known she could make anyone sound like that. After the first couple of 'Is this enjoyable? How does this feel? What letter grade would you—' Law told her in a strained voice he was no longer taking questions, thanks, so she supposed her complete lack of know-how wasn't a bother.

He let her do whatever she wanted. She was probably doing a million things wrong, but if she was, he made no indication that he didn't like it. He watched her almost too much and touched her very little, only to carefully brush the strands of hair away from her face. Like this whole unapologetically sordid situation was immensely fragile and she was some kind of hallowed marble statue.

She had never felt particularly delicate. She grew up around dirty bloodshed and dirtier soldiers. The world kicked her in the face more times than it had ever loved her. But he touched her like she was delicate and sensitive and young. Sophie didn't know what to make of it, if it was good or bad, if she liked it or not.

But here was the crux of it: the mesmerizing arch of Trafalgar Law's torso as he gasped without any noise. With her mouth on this pirate and one hand bruising his hip, a shudder wracked through him and his fists tangled up in his sheets and he swore out a stream of filth that made her toes curl.

And then it was all wet and sweaty and Sophie's brain rattled around in her head as she wiped her mouth. Her chest was hot and her face was hotter and she wanted to unzip her skin from her bones in some kind of awful, turned-on mortification, until Law sat her up and held her very tight to keep her from unravelling out of her own body. Slowly, she stopped shaking. She closed her eyes, running her tongue along her teeth, tasting it.

After a long silence, she whispered into his neck, tiny and quiet, "Are you okay?"

His scruffy jaw tickled her forehead, and he pulled back to look at her.

Limned in the muted sun, Sophie blushed painfully. "Don't feel like you have to… want a-anything you don't want." She wrung her hands, her nerves getting the better of her. "We never need to do anything more. You don't—owe me or anything. So… um…"

His hair stuck up in a black mess and his eyes were heavy and still filled with that slow, strange ache. Then he leaned forward and kissed her just as slowly and strangely. His mouth trailed down and stopped over the rapid heartbeat on her throat.

"We'll discuss that when you get back." There was no sarcasm in his voice, nothing mocking about it; it was just him, calm and careful and quiet. "Conniving fucking witch."

The anxiety subsided. Her heart soared. She reminded herself to manage her expectations.

"Don't obsess over me too much, Law," she told him seriously. "It won't be healthy."

He pinched her sides. Sophie shrieked.

—

#5: Don't say goodbye.

—

Sophie packed up her bombs and extra food in her backpack, then added in her journal, the bounty poster of Nico Robin tucked inside as a bookmark. She had cut out a piece of fabric and glued it on the inside of the cover, like a pocket. Sabo's vivre card sat inside.

She looked around at her hammock, books, the beakers she emptied and cleaned out, and a lightning-shaped Lichtenberg tree sapling she had planted in a pot. Her Crawfish mushrooms were growing nicely in their new terrarium. Everything was in its place, perfect and orderly.

A pair of hot-pink, heart-shaped sunglasses hung off her black tank top. She stuffed her gloves in the pocket of her shorts, then laced up her grey boots. Arsenic was on her shoulder, Kir was strapped to her thigh, and her belt of potions was slung on her hips. Sophie knocked on her desk twice, lit a cigarette, and closed the door. As she went through the hallway, she ran her hand along the latticework of humming pipes and gears.

Outside, white boiler suits were waving in the breeze. Laundry hung on the clotheslines to dry. She pushed aside the clothes, a grin breaking out across her face. Anko had done a splendid job—and in such a timely manner, too.

On the pier, a small boat was moored beside the much larger Polar Tang.

Sophie adjusted her backpack. "Can we talk about the laundry Anko got done?"

"Shaddup," Anko retorted. "Don't be jealous of how manly I've gotten."

Snickering, Penguin rubbed the back of Anko's head and said to Sophie, "Everything ready?"

The whole crew was there. Three-quarters of them were nursing hangovers, judging by how they were half-dressed and propping themselves up against Bepo. Law stood at the forefront, purposefully unhurried as it went from the cigarette between her lips to her eyes. Sophie nodded at them, and Bepo said solemnly, "I gave you the idea, didn't I? This is my fault."

"You know what, Bepo?" she said, remembering a conversation they had on St. Poplar. "You're right. Your secret genius brain is too powerful."

"I knew it," Bepo whispered.

"Three days should cover it," Law said.

"Three days," Sophie agreed. She hopped on her boat, boots hitting wood, the motion sending it drifting slightly. She set her backpack down and turned to her crew, rubbing the fine red heart inked on her right wrist.

"So?" Shachi asked. "What's the plan?"

Sophie blew out a deep, contemplative river of smoke. "I'm… going to make Sengoku cry."

"Should you meet God there," said Hai Xing, "make him cry, too."

Every face she looked to was the same: the Heart Pirates were grinning. The ex-marine (or ex-World Government scientist, depending on who you asked) of their crew was heading home to give one of her old heroes a verbal punch to the face, and they were going to see her off with pride. Law untied the rope and released her boat from the pier.

She slipped on her pink sunglasses and yanked the rigging. The sail unfurled. Her smile was cheerful and ready. "See you in a minute, ya saucy scallywags."

Ten boots pressed onto the side of her boat and kicked it—fwoosh!—straight out to sea.

As a momentous gathering of those who were called the Eleven Supernovas drew near, Strangways Sophie left the Sabaody Archipelago. She was confident that she would soon return after giving Sengoku a piece of her mind. This, however, would not happen. She would not return in three days; in fact, it would be a long time before she saw the soap bubbles again.

Unknowingly, Sophie had set her hands upon the wheel named Destiny, and turned it.

to be continued

trivia

apolleon: i wanted it to sound like word apollyon, a place/angel of destruction; also, it sounds like apollo because greek gods, right?
zostera: i never found the best place to introduce anko's island. a genus of seagrass. (sharp-eyed readers will notice it was another name earlier, but i've decided to change it because i'm pretty sure i got the language wrong.)
sheep cloud: actual weather phenomenon!
peruro whale oil: in latin, peruro means "to burn"
stone fruit: because of… stone fruit… drupes… get it? haha… (i think i am very funny)