Holy heck, you guys blew me out of the water with all those kind reviews!
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece
Time changes many things.
How dreaded Garp's favors are is not one of them.
"Kuzan?"
"No."
Garp huffs in irritation, arms crossed as he gives his fellow vice admiral a half-assed glare. "I haven't even asked you for the favor yet!"
Kuzan rolls his eyes at his friend's feeble attempts at persuading him to listen to his most-likely ridiculous request. "Garp, nothing you say will make me want to do whatever it is you're about to ask me to do."
Nao watches the scene play out with a disbelieving stare. Their conversation is sounding all too incredulously familiar to the one Garp had had with her former guardian all those years ago,(How shitty could his requests really be?) and she remembers exactly how that run-in with Garp and Rosinante had turned out.
Garp gives up on his attempt at persuading the icey (both in attitude and in physique) vice admiral and directs his focus on a more susceptible marine on board. The devious grin plastered on his face is enough to make Nao sweat. There's not a single damn good thing that could come out of a look like that.
"Rosinante," Garp practically sings, and Nao swears she's never seen a grown man look so miserable.
The summoned marine appears to be on the brink of tears. "Yes, Garp-san?"
"It's been awhile since you and Nao have seen each other! While Kuzan and I go tend to whatever it is that's going on in Mariejois, why don't you stay on the ship and 'watch' for any runaways?" Garp winks as he suggests this, and shivers run down the spines of everyone present.
"Garp… you do recall that we're supposed to be rounding the escaped slaves up, not helping the escape through our own underlings, right?" Kuzan asks wearily, though he doesn't exactly object to Garp's idea of feigned ignorance.
"Those spoiled brats will survive without their precious slaves," Garp spits out, looking as if he's consumed something particularly nasty.
He has a point, and everyone knows it.
Kuzan sighs, weighing out his options. Argue with the ever so stubborn Garp, or let the man do as he pleases and save a few lives while doing so. The right answer is obvious—the justice behind orders have been muddled for him since Ohara anyways. "Whatever. If word of this gets out, you're the one talking to Sengoku."
Garp waves his comrade off, grinning to exemplify how glad he is that he's getting his way. "It'll be fine. Sengoku likes me more than you anyways."
"I'm sure he does…"
And with that, the two begin to make their leave, not sparing their two baffled subordinates a second glance.
"Don't we get a say in this?" Rosinante sputters, still not conditioned to Garp's maddening logic despite all the years he's spent with the compulsive man. "You know I'm fully capable of engaging in combat."
"Rosinante." Garp makes it apparent that his order, regardless of how lightly he was wording it, is final.
The blond sighs and falls back, adhering to his superior's command. He knows it's useless to speak against a higher-up, especially when said-higher-up is Garp—a man infamous for his obstinance. His disapproval of Garp's decision goes unnoticed though—obscured by him slipping as he had moved away from Garp.
The vice admiral cracks a smile at Rosinante's clumsiness before he continues his departure, leaving Nao staring at his shrinking figure in complete and utter shock.
Nearly a decade has passed by (Nearly a fuckin' decade!) and she's still being handed over to the clutz as a babysitting job.
"So, uh, how have you been, Nao-chan?" He refuses to look at her directly—still probably guilting himself over the tragedy that had occurred after her own slip up.
She glances up at him curiously, not quite understanding how anyone could ever feel that horrible over an event that was out of their hands. If there needs to be someone to blame for that incident, then the fault falls onto the nosy patrons who alerted the marines, or even Nao herself. The boy is still visibly gutted by the whole ordeal, and Nao can't help but feel bad for starting the whole thing.
But that doesn't stop her from responding in a snarky way—being snappy is how she survived life with Rayleigh.
"I'm doing okay, save for the fact that I was homeless at the age of—what, three? By the way, you can drop the suffixes. Just 'Nao' is fine. It's a lot better than the shit I've been called since my days at the whore house." The response comes out harsher than she intends it too, but it's too late to retract now. The damage is done.
Rosinante flinches at her crude language, and Nao instantly regrets her headstrong approach. This is, after all, someone she's probably going to be stuck with for quite a long time—it'd be easier to start things off on a good note. Before he can scramble to say something to alleviate the tenseness of the situation, Nao continues her verbal autobiography.
"It hasn't been bad, though." Now a real smile graces her lips. "I've met good people since then."
She thinks she might have imagined it, but Rosinante seems to visibly deflate in relief. "I'm glad to hear that."
Nao raises an eyebrow at the exaggerated response. "What? Don't tell me you've been fretting over that this entire time."
The slight blush answers her question for her. "You're as well spoken as ever," he mutters, attempting to change the subject.
"Seriously? It's definitely fine for you to rid yourself of any ill feelings. The incident was my fault. If I hadn't mentioned Oha—"
Her attempt at easing his guilt is met with an absurdly large hand shoved against her mouth, muffling her words. Externally, she glares at him. Internally, she is absolutely bewildered. (Who did these marines think they are?) His eyes flit around in a panic before he slowly lifts his hand, using his free one to motion for her to keep quiet.
She does as told, not desiring another palm to the face.
He uses his now freed hand to snap his fingers. "Silent."
She wants to strangle the man. "You nearly suffocated me with that ludicrously large hand of yours just to activate your devil fruit?"
He gives her a blank look. "Yeah?"
"Why?"
Now it's his turn to look at her disbelievingly. "You still want to talk about government secrets freely after everything that happened last time?"
She gives him a blank look. "Why not?
Deep down inside, she knows exactly why not, but her time with the infamously audacious Dark King has left her desensitized to the consequences of miniscule actions. While she was with him, she was far too busy fretting over the consequences of senselessly extravagant actions. Pissing off a couple marines because of slightly-above-average knowledge of Ohara is the least of her worries.
Rosinante narrows his eyes at her. "Are you messing with me?"
"Sure." She isn't, but she might as well go along with his assumption to save time for both of them. "Why are you here with me again?"
"What? Is my company not enjoyable?" he jokes, but when Nao refuses to forfeit even a fake laugh, he clears his throat and continues. "It's a secret, Nao."
He gives her a secretive look before turning away, intent on making the exchange seem as dramatic as possible. To give it more flair, he pulls out a cigarette and begins to light it—a move that would've been effective to his cause had he not lit himself on fire in the process. The bill of his marine's cap—in a way that not even a freak of nature like Nao can understand—bursts into flames, yet he still has a stupidly at-ease expression on his face.
She sighs and walks towards him, hand stretched out. He views her suspiciously through his peripheral vision, but doesn't know what to make of her actions.
Then she reaches out and, with her bare hands, extinguishes the flame.
"Clutz," she mutters, disregarding her singed fingers. "Don't go and try to be cool if you know you're gonna set yourself on fire in the process."
She grabs the lighter from his hand, wincing as it brushes against her burned hand. Before she can do anything with it, though, Rosinante has batted the object out of her grasp.
"What are you doing?! Let me see your hands," he commands, grabbing her wrists to turn her palms towards him. He crouches on the floor and observes the burns intently, earning a flush from the startled girl. "Why did you just stick your hand into the fire like that?"
"Because… you were on fire?" she replies, not quite understanding the cause of his concern.
"I'm used to it! It happens a lot. You hurt yourself while putting it out when I could've done it myself," he chastises, getting up to grab the first aid kit.
She's watches him, amused by his antics, but doesn't impede him. She's fully capable of taking care of her own wounds—especially something as minor as tiny burns—but watching the man fumble with bandages sounds much more appealing.
He, curiously enough, isn't hopeless with it. In fact, based off of how quickly he does it, he's rather competent with taking care of wounds. Nao chides herself for underestimating him—not taking things seriously enough could very well be the cause of her demise in an unpredictable world like this (and she would be damned if she met her end via the hands of a man as clumsy as Rosinante).
"Thank you," she says, not too proud to be above giving words of gratitude. Of course (because she's a mouthy goddamn imbecile) she continues to speak. "You probably shouldn't be so kind if you're going undercover, though. It might land you in some trouble."
He stiffens, but doesn't seem all that shocked by her casual mention of his classified assignment. "Do you not have a filter, or do you just enjoy leaking government secrets?"
Nao cracks a small smile—a genuine one this time—and laughs. "A little bit of both."
"So what are you? An oracle? Some kind of prodigal spy plotting against the government?" he inquires half-seriously.
The question doesn't catch her off guard anymore—she's gotten it more times than she could count now. She gets it so often that she doesn't even miss a beat as she chirps back a cheeky response. "Now what kind of mysterious figure would I be if I just outed all my secrets to you like that?"
The reply is said in a joking manner, but the glint in her eyes makes it clear to Rosinante that he won't get a better response than that. "Fair enough."
"Why aren't you on that mission yet, though?" She says it in a nonchalant way, but in truth the question has been weighing on her mind since she had gotten on board a few days before.
He eyes her oddly, but eventually writes her off as not a foe. "I was supposed to be dispatched awhile ago, but Garp-san insisted on staying at Sabaody for a few extra days, and then we got the distress call from Mariejois. I'll probably leave after this whole ordeal is done with."
Nao turns away from him, pretending to be especially fascinated with an old clock hanging above Garp's desk. (In actuality, she's closer than she's ever been to shitting bricks, and a little desperate to hide that from the surprisingly observant man.) If memory serves her right, Flevance's extermination had happened right before the start of the new year—right before the slave rebellion at Mariejois. Law would've surely made his way to the Donquixote Pirates, and should've met Rosinante by now.
But Rosinante is very much not with his brother, very much not with Law, and very much present in front of her.
She might have wanted to screw the world over, but her plan still needed the same survivors to exist this time around, too.
Rosinante shouldn't be here.
And judging by the explosion that rocks the ship soon after she has that thought, Fate doesn't want her here either.
Dun dun dunnn! An explosion, but from what? Hehehe Nao gets herself into a mess, again!
Did you guys enjoy the little talk with Rosinante? Isn't our favorite blond the cutest? :D
Can we beat the number of reviews we got last time? I love you guys so much! I'm sorry I'm not directly pming you guys to thank you for your review, but I still adore every single one of you!
Have a great day!~