The island is small, but the village feels like a city, with all the people out and about. The festivities are a distraction going in her favor, and she turns left in an alley when a voice tells her to.
"Left. Turn left." The sea whispers.
Zera follows.
Emerging from the alley, she ducks under a caravan, and heads straight for the docks. The sea is close, she's almost there.
A bright yellow enters her vision suddenly, startling her, and she jerks away on impulse.
Kizaru-
But when she turns to look closely, it was just a shock of blond hair- really the ugliest tuft of hair she's seen- and she sags in relief.
No yellow suit.
She ignores the raised eyebrows directed at her, brings the hood of her cloak up carefully over her face and flees.
She reaches the docks, runs through the stalls and avoids bystanders as her feet bring her forward. She huffs as her eyes land on a huge ship docked at the very corner of the docks, almost hidden but not quite with its massive size. It's as if it's beckoning her, and Zera lets it.
Zera stares as she comes close, mouth almost hanging open. The ship is beautiful, and it towers over her a few feet tall maybe. It feels powerful and old. It feels alive mostly, and surely taken good care of.
"You're magnificent." She says softly, and she feels a ghost of a nudge, gentle and thankful. Zera smiles.
She glances to the side to see some men taking what she assumes to be barrels of booze up the ship. Pirates. She looks up at the mast, squints her eyes as she makes out the Jolly Roger.
Whitebeard Pirates.
She lets out a breath of disbelief, internally cursing. She just knows the sea is laughing at her.
Zera glances around to make sure no one notices her, closes her eyes briefly to mentally prepare herself for what she is about to do, before moving and knocking the pirates unconscious. She only regrets it a second later after she realizes she just attacked some of Whitebeard's crew members. Well, shit. Hopefully, the Whitebeards assume they got drunk on broad daylight. She winces; yeah, very unlikely.
Zera hides with the newly arrived barrels for the first few moments. It's easy when she knows how to conceal her presence, the opposite of flaring one's haki. She doubts she escapes the captain's notice, however.
Might as well wait for him to send someone after her.
She waits and listens as the last of the crew get on board the ship and they rejoice as they set sail once again. The jovial atmosphere brings a small smile to her face. It's a few hours before she gets hungry, and she gets up from her hiding place in search of the kitchen.
She bets they are a long way from the island, away from danger, away from Kizaru, and she doesn't need to worry about them bringing her back.
Zera doesn't bother hiding her presence at all and ignore the confused looks from some of the crewmates she passes by.
She reaches her destination and heads straight to the cooler. Before she even opens the door to the damn thing, she is yanked hard by the back of her coat. The hood falls over her face and she is met with raised brows and an unimpressed expression.
"What do you think you're doing, young miss?" The man with the weird hair, the one she recognizes as the ship's chef, asks her as he drags her over to the deck.
Zera grimaces, trying to yank her arm out of his grasp but he has a firm grip. "I was hoping for a snack, actually."
Her assailant snorts, surprised at her words. She glances up when they finally reach the open deck where more pirates are waiting around. Her gaze lands on the huge man sitting on an equally huge chair. Surely the most dangerous one here.
"Where'd you find her, Thatch?"
"In the kitchen. She was walking around like she owned the place!"
She pulls her hand from his grasp and crosses them loosely over her chest, lightly touching the dagger under her cloak. "I was hungry."
A low laugh echoes around the deck and everyone tenses, attention focused on their captain. Zera braces herself as a small wave of haki rolls over her.
"You've got some nerve attacking my sons unawares, brat."
She gulps, standing her ground. She doesn't take her eyes off him all the while keeping a close eye on the commanders in her periphery vision. "Are you sure they weren't just drunk?"
Zera internally screams. Idiot .
"You dare play silly games with me?" The strongest man in the world bellows, slamming his bisento to the ground. The haki he lets out sends chills up her spine, and Zera's love of the ocean is immense but, in this moment, she really doubts this. In her mind, she blames the sea for everything that is happening.
Around her, the closest of Whitebeard's crew yell out in outrage, cursing at her. "Do you even know who we are?"
She resists the urge to take a step back. "Perhaps they were not." The young woman concedes, tilting her head down slightly. Whitebeard regards her with utter disdain, a look that makes her want to shrivel up and rot. She can hear the sea laughing at her expense and she curses.
A shirtless young man with freckles steps up to her and glares. "Don't you dare curse at Oyaji!"
Zera tightens her hold on her dagger but barely glances at him as Whitebeard himself stands up from his chair to stalk closer to her.
"Ace." He reprimands, placing a hand on Ace's shoulder that is starting to let off steam. And ah, Zera recalls the sea's hushed whispers of adventures and mysteries, of hopes and dreams, of a father lost, of a child not unloved.
Zera chances a glance at the freckles and sees a speckle of gold dust. The beginnings of a turn in fate.
She looks back up at Whitebeard, who is already looking at her with an unreadable expression. She takes a step back and puts her arms up in a show of surrender.
"Alright, I did attack your crewmates." She is prepared for the wave of haki that threatens to bring her to her knees and so she is able to stand her ground, stubborn that she is. "But I wasn't really thinking and I just wanted to get off the island and I even brought them aboard." She says in one breath, ignoring the incredulous and disbelieving looks thrown her way. "I mean, I could've let them drown or something."
At the dark looks and sudden cold chill in the air, she backtracks, arms raising higher in the air. "Not that I would have, of course."
"Gee, aren't you so great at words." One of the smaller sized members of the crew says sarcastically, arms crossing over a green shirt and Zera's lips tilt up in a slight smile.
There is a slight pause, as if they don't know where to go from there, and her gaze drift back to the captain. Zera can't read the expression on his face, but his eyes appraise her with a heaviness she could not comprehend.
"Why did you come to the Moby, child?" Whitebeard asks, tone commanding and ever so powerful. And Zera pauses, startled because the ocean- ( My child , she hears the soft whisper every time, helps her fall asleep each night).
The ocean led her here, there is no other way to put it. Zera is not unlike driftwood, honestly, and where the seas lead her, she will follow.
However, she couldn't really admit to that. She doesn't let this faze her any more than it did, listens to the songs of the ship, silent yet always there, and simply says; "This ship is beautiful."
Whitebeard blinks once, the only sign that he is stumped by her answer. Zera hides a smile. She knows he cannot detect a lie in her words, because it's true. The Moby Dick is beyond beautiful.
"Wha- that's it?" Is the question asked, many of the faces she sees are bewildered, surprised. It amuses her, somewhat.
"What else is there?" Zera does smile this time, glancing around at the speechless pirates.
"What do you plan on doing here then?"
"Nothing." At this, she notices Whitebeard's eyes narrow suspiciously and she turns to fully stare at him. "I would appreciate a lift to the next island though."
Whitebeard merely snorts as he walks back to his chair. "You've got guts asking that of a Yonko, brat."
Guts or a few screws loose, no one would know. "I'm basically a stowaway. It's not like you would throw me overboard, right?"
"Don't tempt us, yoi." A new voice is heard from her left and she blinks at the vaguely familiar tuft of hair. At a closer look at his face, she finds that she recognizes him.
Marco the Pheonix , her mind recalls reading from the news coo.
"Ah, you're that guy with the ugly-ass hair." She blurts out instead, ignores the burst of uncontrolled laughter that follows her statement and turns back to the captain. "You can't just throw me to the sea. And besides, aren't you all about children anyways?"
"And if we do, brat?" The old man challenges and she leans back with a frown. "We are pirates! We are free to do whatever with weaklings. We can throw them out to die on the bottom of the ocean if we so desire!"
She disregards the many yells of agreement from the crew at large. "I know you're pirates." She mutters, face concealed by her hood as she tugs it over her head yet again. Zera tilts her head to the side as she considers this, makes up her mind. "You are free to do whatever you want; the sea won't let me drown." Conviction surrounds her words as if she knows this to be true. Zera looks up and observes the captain for a moment, eyes eerily staring straight at him and oddly enough, with no fear in the face of the strongest man in the world. Then she smiles. "But I know you won't. So let me stay here."
It is silent for a few moments as the two of them stare at each other, air heavy with unspoken words. After a little while, Whitebeard lets out a booming laugh. "Gurararara! You are an interesting one, brat!"
At his words, a huge smile threatens to split her face. "Does that mean I can stay?"
There's that laugh again, and she feels giddy with it, like she's floating with joy. "As long as you stay out of trouble this time."
She lets out a triumphant 'yes' and ignores the hushed murmurs on the deck. Marco only scratches the back of his head, by now used to his captain's impulsiveness. "It can't be helped, yoi."
Sometimes she wonders what she must do with all the information in her head, knowledge she doesn't want nor need, and especially knowledge she has no business knowing.
The soft voices merely flow with the wind, and she just catches them as they pass.
Sometimes there are many voices, overlapping one another. Those belong to the towns, and everything it has seen throughout the decades. Sometimes the voice is loud and powerful, and that belongs to the sky with all its encompassing glory. Sometimes, and this one is her favorite, the voice is like a caress. "Zera." A whisper, a warm hand running through her hair, a comforting presence. This one belongs to the sea.
There is also this last voice. Sometimes it seems light and warm and bright, and it feels as if she could envision her future with dazzling grace. Sometimes it seems heavy with a comprehension of this world, of a great burden from a thousand years ago, of a grasp on the fate of every single person with a vice-like grip.
It is the Voice of All Things, and it is everything and nothing all at once.
She lets out a long, tired breath, leaning over the railing close to where the captain is seated, gaze focused across the sea as she listens to words of comfort, of whispers of you are safe. The reassurances do remove her doubts, and she is, once again and not for the last time, grateful for the voices in the wind.
Kizaru would have given up by now, no doubt too lazy to keep following her tracks despite his being faster than light . Zera supposes she is glad that the mellow admiral had been the one to catch a glimpse of her, his relaxed demeanor at times overflowing into being a bit absentminded.
If he had been serious... She sighs. She doesn't want to think about what would happen if he had captured her.
She closes her eyes to rid of the foreboding thoughts, stays over by the railing until some time has passed, until the smell of food permits the air, and she wonders when dinner will be served.
It is well into the night before someone approaches her, footsteps echoing against the wooden deck. The silence continues however, even after the person settles himself to her left. She turns her head to look curiously.
Marco the Phoenix stands next to her, attention captured by the sea. She waits patiently for him to say something. Even though he is not looking at her directly, she can feel him observing her quietly. She can feel some of the pirates on deck observing her actually, keeping an eye on her. Eventually, he turns to look at her, considering her for a moment.
"What did you mean by the sea not letting you drown?" Are the first words out of his mouth, and Zera blinks, confused.
"What?"
"Earlier, you said the sea won't let you drown, yoi." He elaborates.
For a minute, she is quiet, just staring at him blankly before tilting her head and avoiding his gaze. "Did I?" A coy smile makes its way to her face, body shifting to observe the deck and Marco frowns at the dismissal.
There is nothing the commander could say that would encourage her to continue the conversation and he knows this, so instead he only hums.
They stay in comfortable silence then, as they watch the pirates on the deck milling about. Even though some of the commanders are wary of her still, the atmosphere brings a smile upon her lips, slow and true.
Laughter echoes on the ship, feels like windchimes in the air. It makes her feel giddy, makes her feel alive.
It makes her want to stay, and isn't that a dangerous thought.
Dinner is a time of chaos and Zera finds herself seated in between the 1st and 3rd commanders, having her fill of the food.
"Why is she here, though?"
Sticking her tongue out childishly at Ace, she takes a bite out of the chicken in her hand. "I wanted to eat, too."
"Yeah, but why here ." Ace grumbles, platters upon platters of plates stacked up on his side of the table, Thatch coming and going with more food for the glutton.
Zera raises her head to look around at the commanders, who are not so discretely listening in on them. Wariness she could see, clear as day, on the faces around the table.
She shrugs. "I wanted to eat with you guys."
From the corner of her eye, she sees Jozu raise his brows in what seems to be bewildered astonishment. "She does have guts." At this, Zera lets out a huff of a laugh, lips quirking in amusement.
"I guess you could say that." She quips, earning her a few eye rolls from some of the commanders, but Thatch, she could see, is hiding a grin with his hand, no doubt amused at the antics of a lowly nobody like her. A smirk makes its way to her face. "Do you have chocolate cake? It's my favorite."
The cook barks out a laugh, and she grins. "I don't take requests from brats."
"You seem oddly relaxed." The crossdresser, the one she knows as Izo, questions. Around seasoned pirates , goes unspoken. He ( She? They? ) eyes her behind the open fan, face carefully blank. Zera takes her time to mull the statement, to consider her answer.
"You guys don't seem the type to hurt someone without reason." She settles on, truthful and earnest, ever-present smile back in place. The commanders blink at her, confounded.
"What makes you say that, yoi ?" It is Marco who asks, regarding her with a look she couldn't decipher.
Zera laughs at him, as if the answer is obvious, and it is. It is .
"A crew that treats each other like family are good people, don't you think?"
And they stare at her, shock written plainly across their faces, and Zera laughs so hard she almost chokes. Someone hands her a glass of water and she calms when she downs the full glass, the thumping on her back pausing as she takes a drink. Her throat is burning, but her smile is wide, unrestrained, free.
It dims however, when she feels eyes on her. She discretely glances around, catching sight of a darkness confined in a body, already halfway out the door. She hides her frown behind her glass.
The sea whispers to her, a warning ringing in her ears. "D's will shake the world."
She is woken by the storm. The voice of the sky and the sea are deafening, combine that with the rain that sounds like tears and the howls of the wind.
By the time she reaches the outer deck, where the pirates are running around doing their respective tasks, she is wide awake, sleep having already evaded her.
She tilts her head back to look up at dark clouds, and her mouth move on their own, words almost unheard against the roaring of the skies. "What's going on?"
Someone answers her, tells her that they were hit by the unexpected storm and they had no time to evade, but Zera tunes him out in favor of the faint voices, repeating trust us, trust us. Huh.
Zera has always trusted The Voice of All Things, she isn't going to stop now.
It is dawn when the skies clear, and the seas have strayed them from their path. A small island could be seen ahead, and Zera's lips twitch up in a miniscule smile.
What purpose does she have in this particular island? She muses as she listens to the commanders decide to visit the small piece of land. You'll see , comes the soft murmur.
When they finally dock, she takes a moment to observe from the ship. For as long as the eye could see, there is nothing there but wilderness.
The other commanders invite her out to explore with them, already making their way down, and she gladly accepts. Her sandaled feet land on the beach, and she discards them to feel the sand beneath. She walks around to reach the water, waves lapping at her foot.
Some of them join her for a while, and it's a silence that is both comfortable and enjoyable. She takes in the view from the shore, because she loves this sight, endless blue as the sea meets the sky with the feel of the sand beneath her feet and she feels safe . She sighs, and at the soft "You'll always be safe with me, child" , she smiles.
She almost yelps in surprise when Thatch urges her to go, already turning to the forest with the others.
Sometimes, she forgets that they are not like her, that they cannot hear the soft voice, always comforting, encouraging, always there . It makes her feel alone. Aside from her brother, Roger was the only one she knew of that could also hear The Voice of All Things, but they are both dead now.
And it makes her feel so alone. (But the Voice doesn't let her for too long)
She turns to follow.
They walk for what feels like hours, and she complains as much. The commanders ignore her, talking amongst themselves, but Haruta laughs at her, amused.
They reach a cliffside, with a beautiful waterfall where they stop for a while. She smiles as she watches them set up the place for a picnic.
She is already taking a seat on the blanket-covered ground when she hears it. A faint cry, so feeble and light it almost goes unnoticed by her. She glances up, sees the commanders too busy with the food, arguing with each other or otherwise exploring to pay close attention to her.
She gets up and leaves.
She arrives at an obscure cave hidden by the side of the cliffs. The path is dark and muddy, and she finds that it leads down, until she feels water at the soles of her feet. Confused, because there is a whole lake down this cave, she wonders what the voice wants her to do here.
Then, there is that vague cry again, echoing against the walls of the cavern, and her gaze zeroes in to the water. And she feels it. There is life just beyond that. She laughs.
Chucking her cloak and her dagger to the ground, away from the water, she treads forward and gets ready to dive. The water is cold and murky and dark, and she holds her breath as she swims, lets the currents guide her to the other side. When she emerges, breathing deeply, she is astounded speechless.
There is a whole other forest here, bright and pure. The forest is alive, singing with life, and Zera is mesmerized.
She is in awe as she walks around, looking at the field of flowers, when she catches a glimpse of it. Beneath the shade of a willow tree, hidden from sight by a few leaves and bushes, lay some kind of animal, and as she comes closer to take a better look, it lets out a despairing cry. Kneeling by its side, Zera tentatively reaches out a hand, never touching, only hovering. She watches the furred chest rise up and down as it breathes unevenly, eyes trailing over the antlers on its head and- Oh .
A jackalope.
One that is loved by this island so much and it is hurt really badly. Before she has a chance to panic over what to do, a whistle is heard from behind her and she jumps in surprise, hastily turning around to look.
Namur is standing there, along with Haruta, both of them staring wide eyed at the injured creature.
"You followed me." Zera murmured as they came closer to her and Haruta snorts.
"Yeah, because you just slinked away like you aren't the most suspicious person here at all." He says, sarcasm dripping like honey in his tone. The fishman only gives her a brief look, something light in his eyes and Zera knows she is forgiven. She chooses not to say anything to that, and turns back to the jackalope lying on the grown. "How did you even know about this place?"
"I didn't." She ponders for a while, then lets out a smile. "I followed my instincts."
"Good instincts." Namur mutters quietly from beside her, regarding her with a curiosity she'd rather not answer.
"It's hurt." She tells them instead. She could feel the discomfort coming from the creature, hear the whimpers of pain the others could not.
They discuss what to do for a while, and when Namur goes to fetch a doctor, Zera and Haruta stay behind to watch the wounded animal. When Namur comes back with the doctor, all the other commanders who are not devil fruit users arrives with him.
The jackalope is healed, resting against the majestic willow tree, and they explore. Zera trails behind the overexcited men, lips quirked in an amused smile.
Pirates, she muses, are not unlike overeager children, hungry for adventure.
"Only the best of them is, my child." The sea whispers, like a secret, tone dancing with mirth and she huffs out an amused sort of laugh, gaining her questioning looks from the others she chooses to ignore.
It is hours before they decide to go back and when they reach the other side, Ace is there, waiting for them impatiently, a petulant pout on his face. "What was it like down there?" He asks eagerly, eyes huge and curious like that of a young boy. It suits him, youth.
"It was almost magical." Haruta answers just as eagerly, smiling at the fire user and they get lost in conversation.
The moment they get back to the Moby Dick, Whitebeard is there waiting for them patiently. To Zera, who hasn't felt like it in a very long time, it feels almost like coming home, and that thought scares her the most.
She flees to her assigned room when they gather around the captain's chair to share with him their adventure, and she ignores the eyes following her across the deck.
She's good at ignoring things.
"Oh, my child." The ocean weeps for her, and she closes her eyes. "Change can be a good thing too."
No, change can either be this or that, but on the precipice of it, it's a scary little thing, and she feels like she's standing on the edge. Zera has always been a coward, it's how she's always survived up to this point. Running away.
There is also that other voice, one ingrained within her, telling her not to interfere.
(The outcome will be the same either way. Inevitable.)
She hastens her steps as she tries to shake off her thoughts. Her room is right around the corner when she feels a presence nearby. Heavy, stifling, dark. She pauses and turns. Smiles.
"You're Teach, right?" She forces out, tone pleasant, voice light.
The man is smiling back at her and it feels wrong.
He laughs and nods, walking closer to her. Zera suppresses the urge to take a step back out of pure instinct. "I was on my way to the galley to eat. Wanna join?" Everything about him is friendly and it's making chills crawl up her spine.
She smiles a little too widely. "Ah, I'm a little tired." She excuses, already turning to head to her room and Teach hums, smiles and says he understands. She waits until he leaves and she almost but not quite flees to her room, slamming the door shut.
His mere presence unnerves her. His casual gait, friendly countenance, everything is wrong .
When the newspaper arrives one day and Ace excitedly bounds over to Whitebeard's shoulder, Zera knows it must be something special. She perks up from her perch on the railing, just as the others do.
The young D shoves the paper in the captain's hands, smile bright and infectious. "Look Oyaji! It's my baby brother."
Overcome with curiosity, she creeps closer to chance a glance at the wanted poster but her mind involuntarily flashes back to when she was a child, standing on her tippy toes and leaning over the shoulder of the most important person in her life to look at the man with the dangerous grin on the old, ratty wanted poster. She blinks to throw the memory away and her eyes focus on the paper.
When she is greeted with a wide grin, she does a double take. She remembers seeing a grin just like this one, and by the gods did that man change the world.
Zera wonders if this one will do it too, if the fates are having a laugh and history will repeat itself.
The ocean is singing, the wind is howling in her ears, but the Voice is silent. Almost like waiting for the pin to drop.
She sees the name and suppresses a smile. Dragon, you bastard.
"Monkey D. Luffy." She reads aloud and it almost sounds like a premonition. The other commanders pause their discussion to glance at her. She almost tells them to brace themselves, this one will conquer, or die trying.
"He looks interesting." She says instead.
Ace positively beams, and tells them about that time his brother got eaten by an alligator.
She listens half-heartedly, nods and laughs at the most opportune moments just like the others but her mind is elsewhere.
It's a little while after some of the ship's navigators declare an island on the horizon that she excuses herself and reclaim her spot on the railing. It probably won't be until morning until they reach the piece of land.
She is itching to get off the ship because the longer she stays here, the more she feels at home.
And it's a scary thought, wanting to belong. A small, sad smile graces her lips, short-lived, fleeting. There one second, gone the next.
She once belonged somewhere.
Zera's people were once a clan of remarkable individuals who can hear the Voice of all Things. They were a part of the founding twenty. They were kind and peaceful and loved by many, or so her grandmother had told her. Hence, when the World Government felt threatened and ordered to eradicate them, they stood no chance.
It has been roughly 800 years since then.
Even until this day, the Gorosei has covertly hunted them down like pigs waiting for slaughter, just because of the blood that flows through their veins. After all, someone who is so close to the Voice of All Things could be oh so dangerous, right? For those in power.
(But they are wrong.
Zera has always been one with the Voices, but to interfere with the course of destiny is unheard of, unprecedented, unimaginable.
Only those destined for greatness could even touch the string of the world, let alone alter it.)
Zera is the last remaining member of this extinct clan. Gods and Dragons alike could burn every single last one of Zera's blood and they would still be the spineless little scoundrels they are now.
There is a flash of blue fire just as Marco, in his half-Pheonix form, lands beside her. He studies her for a few moments, face a blank mask, then lets out a lazy hum as his gaze sweeps over the horizon. "It seems your journey with us is coming to a near end, yoi."
"It seems so." She agrees, nodding. Marco only raises a brow, side eyeing her.
"What's got you so deep in thought, yoi?" He finally asks and Zera smiles good-naturedly.
There's a lot of things on her mind, things she keeps close to her heart, things she doubts anyone would even understand. The ocean, the future, the Voice. Teach, Luffy, and all these people.
She thinks for a second, mind flashing to warmth within these wooden walls, genuine smiles directed at her after so long, before deciding to give him a subtle clue. "D's are terrifying."
"Oh?" And at that, the first commander is interested. Zera could tell she has caught his attention despite him still facing the ocean.
"Yeah." She lets out a laugh, carefully pleasant and casual. "With two on your crew, it must be difficult."
The older man hums, glancing at the fire user who is still regaling his crewmates with tales of his younger brother.
"Not really, yoi. Ace could be a handful sometimes, but Teach keeps on the downlow." Zera purses her lips as she nods. And isn't that a cause for concern, a pirate with the infamous D in his name, keeping a low profile. She doesn't know why they aren't a little bit wary of the man. At her sudden silence, Marco frowns. "What?"
Zera tilts her head, eyes shifting and lips twitching.
"They say D's are the natural enemies of the Gods." She says, turning around to observe the deck, taking in all these pirates, loud and joyful and free. "They bring chaos and mayhem wherever they go." She turns back to Marco, who is looking back at her in confusion. "No D is an exception."
Marco suddenly sharpens his gaze and Zera could feel the change in aura, protective and guarded, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. "What are you trying to say, yoi?"
She looks back over the deck and notes that Teach is nowhere in sight. She shrugs.
"Just saying. It wouldn't hurt to be cautious." And before the commander could get a word in, she is already walking away, heading down to the kitchens. "I'm hungry. Is dinner ready yet?"
She ignores the heavy stare directed at her back, ignores the vague whispers along the wind, pushing foreboding thoughts out of her head.
She's good at ignoring things.
The sun hasn't even fully come up yet, casting shadows over the deck as she is sitting on her usual perch on the railing by the captain's side. She watches as the island comes closer by the hour, growing bigger and bigger as they approach.
Her thoughts are conflicted, but she makes sure it doesn't show on her face. Outwardly she's calm, probably even slightly eager to get off the ship and be on her way, she makes sure to show this to the commanders surrounding her.
This is what she wants after all, what she has always been doing and what she is used to. Zera doesn't have a place to call her own, and she is fine with that. She has always been fine with that, even before. She needs to be on the run, needs to stay in hiding, needs to lay low and out of the world government's sight because if she stays here...
If she stays here, with these pirates, she will eventually be on the Marine's radar, the Gorosei will be informed and she will be found out, and they will hunt her down.
But most importantly... She looks up, eyes sweeping over the deck where some people are already milling about, all so high-spirited and buoyant and free. Some of the commanders she sees are yelling out orders, Marco is keeping a look out up on the mast, Vista is polishing his swords, Namur is climbing back up on the Moby after scouting the waters for sign of Marine ships, and Ace is bickering with Thatch, deciding on what food to bring back from the island.
Zera stares and stares and wants.
She cannot have this. She will only bring them ruin.
Her gaze lands beside her where the captain sits, and it surprises her that his eyes are already on her. He examines her for a little while, and they are silent, ignoring the commotion across the deck.
Finally, Whitebeard tilts his head. "You are scared, child. Why?"
Drawing a quick, strangled breath, she tries to control her breathing. Her heart is beating unusually fast and she frowns, confused. She might be out of her mind but it almost sounds as if he cares and Zera clenches her jaw, on the verge of panicking but not quite.
Why would this man care for her at all?
"Why would I be scared?" Fighting to keep her voice even, she asks instead, because there is nothing she could say that would be a decent answer. She barely knows the answer herself.
The captain merely stares at her, his heavy gaze landing on her person, assessing her very thoroughly, for what, she does not know and she almost wants to combust in place.
She feels oddly out of place with barely a few words from the wizened pirate, her easygoing and calm composure cracking along the ridges and she bites her tongue to concentrate on schooling her crumbing expression.
"Your reasons are not of my concern." He says at last, making her blink. There is a pause, before something in his eyes soften almost impeccably. It makes her stomach queasy. "But your wellbeing while on my ship is."
She lets out a long breath and looks away, towards the island getting closer and closer. There is a ringing in her ears which she ignores.
"I'll get off the ship straight away when we reach the island." She looks directly into his eyes at this, and the suspicious emotion crinkling the corners of his orbs makes her look away again. "I won't be your concern then."
Whitebeard only hums, but he doesn't take his eyes off her, she could tell. It awfully feels like she would regret this, so she clenches her fists and refuse to even glance back at him.
They plan to leave the Moby on these little row boats for the voyage into the island, and Zera thinks it's a foolproof plan. After all, the Moby could draw a lot of attention, being the beauty that she is.
The island is huge, with a small village not far from the shore, and Zera looks on from the main deck of the Moby Dick, halfheartedly listening to the commanders plan their journey into the island. Everyone is running around, shouting orders and getting things done. She doesn't even pretend to know what they are yapping on about.
She smiles, endeared by them despite herself. She would miss these pirates, although she would never admit it, not even to herself.
Something heavy has lodged itself on her chest, rooting her to her spot. The feeling of dread increases with the thought of her leaving the ship and it confuses her. She feels eyes on the back of her head, and she ignores this because she doesn't want to face the reality of people being concerned for her.
That hasn't happened in a very long time. Not after...
("I only have you, Arez." She whispers, pleading. The man- boy really- caresses her face, gentle, apologetic in every way.
"I'm sorry, Zera. I'm doing this for you."
"Don't go." She begs, and there are cracks in her voice. "You'll die."
"If it means you'll live, I'll die a thousand times over." He says, eyes hard and determined. Will the strongest she has ever felt. He leaves.
And their fate was sealed.)
She exhales a long breath, shaking thoughts of the past away. Her smile turns a tad bit bittersweet for her liking, so she schools her expression into a more neutral one as Thatch approaches from the side.
"Hey." He greets her, wide smile in place. Zera returns the gesture and they both turn to look at the shore together, waiting for Whitebeard's signal to take off. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Thatch says; "You do know you can stay longer, right? We're just going to restock on this island and set sail again in a few hours."
She snorts. "I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome. Besides, I really don't want to anger your captain any longer." And at her words, the cook eyes her skeptically, as if wondering if she is an idiot. Zera huffs, asks "What?" and crosses her arms like a petulant child.
"Oyaji won't mind it if you stayed longer, you know."
No. She did not know. She doesn't even know if she wants to know. A small part of her is taunting her, despite the wind's gentle caress, despite the ocean's reassuring whispers, despite the sky's steady presence. There is no place for you, her own voice echoes in her head. You'll never belong.
The longer she remains here, the greater she wants, and she can't afford to mess everything up again.
(She isn't supposed stay.)
"Well, I guess this is goodbye." Thatch smiles at her when she rejects the offer a second time, understanding in the corner of his lips and a little bit of sadness behind his eyes. Zera disregards this observation without a thought.
"For a while." She responds, giving him a slight smile. Without thinking, and surprising herself by meaning it, she says; "I'll come back to taste your chocolate cake, so you better prepare."
And when Thatch laughs, Zera's heart constricts in her chest.
There are warning bells ringing in her ears, but she couldn't make out the words the Voice is throwing at her. It is all white noise, and it frightens her. When this happens, something terrible is coming.
It is a few hours later and she is still reeling from her time with the Whitebeard pirates, standing at the top of the tallest building in the village and looking at the retreating vessel getting smaller and smaller across the ocean.
She left just as they reached the shoreline, separating from the rest of them almost immediately, seeing as they had been too busy securing the row boats.
She knows they looked for her in the corners of their eyes, in the minute tilts of their heads, in the pauses in their steps, but it had been almost too easy, getting away from the commanders when she starts repressing her presence, hiding amongst the shadows of the trees and of the buildings, the voice of this island aiding her, concealing her entirely from prying entities.
It is what she has always done, for years and years and years. Hiding.
The commanders are smart, they would understand, in so little words. They would let her go.
Zera stays there until the ship is but a dot on the horizon and even the whispers of laughter from the crew cannot be heard along the wind anymore, standing absolutely still and willing the niggling feeling of something wrong to go away.
The feeling is still there when the shadows of the sun setting eventually creeps along her still form.
When she sees a black feather falling out of the corner of her eye, she glances up to find a flock of crows in the sky.
She leaves.
A few months later, she is astounded with the guilt lodged in her throat, the self-loathing she feels agonizing in its intensity.
He's dead, he's dead, he's dead.
Even though she tried so hard to prevent it, she has somehow allowed herself to care so much it is bringing her to her knees, but Thatch is still dead, and she has done nothing.
The whispers sound awfully condescending from where she is kneeling on the ground, clutching at the wrinkled newspaper in her shaking hands like a lifeline. Or perhaps it is an anchor, dragging her down and drowning her. The comfort she has always known doesn't reach her. "I'm sorry, my child." The sea is calm, as if mocking her turbid thoughts. "It is meant to happen."
And Zera knows, she understands- that no matter what happens, nothing will change.
Whatever took place, whatever is to come, it is inevitable.
Fate is inevitable.
(But a certain man with a strawhat weaved with unbroken promises and a will unlike any other will challenge the world, and she will watch from the sidelines just as she is meant to.)