All They Will Lose

Chapter 8

Shachi lay in his bunk, arms beneath his head, and stared up at the wooden slats. Night had fallen hours ago but he was wide awake, mind whirling and refusing to let him succumb to unconsciousness. Memories of today continued to fly through his head.

Everything had been so normal. He challenged Penguin to another sparring session in the morning and lost miserably. Bepo saw the aftermath of their fight and got upset because they left scuffmarks everywhere and he'd just polished it two days ago till it shone. Penguin faked other duties to get out of cleaning so it'd been left to Shachi to clean up. Iruka then arrived like the tornado she was, and tried to convince him to leave the crew.

Well, that last part could hardly be considered normal.

And then… the ashes.

It was strange how Shachi remembered every detail of it as though he'd recorded it with a camera and could replay it back to recapture everything he missed at the beginning.

The first thing he saw was Bepo kneeling amongst a mess of maps and spilled ink, no longer howling in anguish but rather emitting short whimpers with his ears folded flat against his head. He held a pile of ashes so alike in colour to his paw pads that the rest of the crew almost missed it but when they saw it they didn't need to ask what it was, what it meant. They all just knew and the realisation hit them so hard it choked the oxygen out of their lungs.

The vivre card had been burning for days, indicative of their captain's life force, but they hadn't kicked up a fuss because it was Trafalgar Law, captain of the Heart Pirates and Royal war Lord, that they were talking about. He would never give up and die so easily, not when he promised to come back and they believed him because he never broke his promises.

Yet here was the first and last time.

While the lot of them gaped at the implication of the little mountain of ashes, unable to move a muscle or utter a word, Penguin and Jean Bart burst into the control room with sweat slicking their skin and hot breath puffing from their lips.

"What's going on?" Penguin demanded, then his shadowed gaze followed everyone else's and Shachi could practically see icy fingers clenching Penguin's heart and drawing the breath from his body. Who would be more affected by this than Penguin? He had known Law the longest, fought with him the longest. He was the first mate who carried out the highest orders and the one Law turned to for advice. "No. No, that's not possible. That can't be right."

Penguin's words snapped Bepo out of his trance. Bepo's dark eyes glistened with tears and he rounded on his friend with all the viciousness of a true animal. "I told you. I told you we should have gone to Captain's side as soon as we knew he was in trouble. But you said everything would be okay and I trusted you. This is all your fault!"

As though physically struck by the words, Penguin reeled backwards. He crashed into Jean Bart who clapped a large hand on his back, stopping him from falling over. "No. Oh no."

"Bepo!" Ginji protested, throwing himself next to the bear. "Don't say that. It's not fair on Penguin. We all agreed to give it time so please don't pin the blame on Penguin."

"He's the acting captain, right?" Tears began to slide down the white fur of Bepo's muzzle. "The decision was only his."

Penguin's throat bobbed as he swallowed, and if Jean Bart hadn't been supporting him, he would have sank to his knees. "Bepo… I…"

"I don't want to hear it!"

Ginji clutched Bepo's sleeves, bright blue eyes brimming with hurt, and buried his head into the bear's arm, begging, "Stop it, please, Bepo. Don't start a fight and say something you'll regret."

Wakame, unusually kind and sympathetic, took Ginji's hands in his own and pulled him away from the heartbroken bear.

"What more is there to regret?" he quietly asked, and patted Ginji's head as tears spilled from the boy's eyes.

It was surreal. Shachi had felt nothing at that time. He could only stare at Bepo who hurled accusations at Penguin, Wakame comforting the boy he usually called an annoyance, the grim expressions on everyone's faces and all of it was so out of the norm that Shachi simply couldn't believe it was happening.

Even now, hours after the incident, Shachi couldn't wrap his head around it.

A blank slate.

He hated himself for it. Shouldn't there at least be grief? Maybe even tears? Isn't that what happened what loved ones died?

Shachi tossed and turned, rumpling his sheets further, but nothing whisked him from his thoughts. The moonlight shining into the room grew stronger and the longer Shachi waited for emotions to overwhelm him, the more agitated he became and eventually, he gave up trying to feel and rolled out of his bunk. There would be no sleep tonight.

The sleeping quarters were unnaturally quiet. Shachi's heavy boots thudded through the empty corridors, louder than usual because there were no obnoxiously loud snores to muffle them.

It looked like no-one else was sleeping. Most of them were in the galley, sitting haphazardly in their seats like they would any other day. But there were no goads or food thrown around the room. Just silence and a sombre atmosphere, most of them staring into their mugs like they were trying to find answers within the dark and bitter liquids.

His eyes flicked across the room but there was no bright red hair to mark his sister's presence. Did she already leave the sub and find a motel? She'd always been the type to avoid trouble, to run a fair distance away and be a bystander who made observations and consequently dealt information to make insane amounts of cash. Was this another one of her business trips? How much someone would pay to know whether or not Trafalgar Law still existed? Iruka would have a field day with the biddings, that was for sure.

Shachi slipped into the kitchen and came face-to-face with Ban, whose bloodshot eyes and sagging features spoke volumes.

"Hey." Ban handed Shachi a mug of tea.

"Thanks." Shachi took a sip and somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that it was jasmine.

"Iruka was about to take one up for you."

Shachi's eyebrows arched and he looked at his friend over the rim of the mug. "She's still here?"

Ban shot him a strange look. "Why wouldn't she be?"

"No reason," Shachi muttered.

"She's been checking up on everyone. Think she went to check on Penguin."

"No-one's holding up well, huh? Least of all him."

Bepo's words had wounded Penguin more than anyone could have thought possible. Big, marshmallow, kind and gentle Bepo had lashed out in a show of cruelty and hurt one of his closest friends when said friend was already at his lowest point. Just what else was going to go awry?

"They're all taking it pretty hard. Some of them…" Ban hesitated, then plunged on. "I heard them talking about it. They're thinking of leaving."

Hot tea slipped down his throat and Shachi spluttered, coughing his lungs out. "What?"

"I know. It's kind of early to be rushing into things. But…" Ban shrugged uncomfortably. "Without a captain, we can't be a crew, can we?"

Of course. The only reason they'd gathered under the same Jolly Roger was because Trafalgar Law asked them to join him. That was the one thing that bound them together. And now that their only link was severed, there was nothing else to hold them together, no reason why they should linger together. There was no purpose to the Heart Pirates anymore.

And then everything clicked into place.

His captain wasn't the only thing he'd lost, because along with his captain went his crew. There was nothing here for them anymore, and one by one they would walk away and never look back, heading for some future that had nothing to do with everything they held dear within this little yellow submarine. There would be no-one in this place he called a home, no-one to fill it up to make a family, nothing left of everything that Shachi held precious.

What was this? Since when had the Heart Pirates been this important to him? Iruka had accused him of caring for his captain more than her, but he refused to believe it and continued lying to both of them because he'd always told himself that his own flesh and blood was most important.

It terrified him. Just how much of his life did he put into the Heart Pirates? Since when did that Jolly Roger have such a hold over him, so tightly that it may as well have been hooks digging into his skin and refusing to let go? Everything about this crew made up his identity. Where he lived, who he sailed with, which flag he sailed under, his uniform, his tattoos, how he introduced himself as a member of the Heart Pirates, all of it was melded into his identity and it cost too much to let go now.

Shachi never realised how much he took for granted until this moment when it was all falling apart.

"Damn it." His voice cracked under the weight of all that he was about to lose. "Damn it all to hell."

Purupurupurupurupuru…

"Come on."

As quiet and desperate as Penguin's voice was, it sounded all too loudly in the otherwise empty room. He sat at the control board with his head in one hand and the den-den mushi receiver in the other, no longer able to remember how many times he'd tried calling already. But for some reason, no matter how many times the snail regretfully clicked and ended the call, Penguin always insisted one more time and lifted his fingers to dial again.

He had to do it. Had to.

After he recovered from the shock of Bepo's hurtful words, Penguin had holed himself up in the control room in a frenzy to reach their captain because he needed to prove to Bepo, to the crew, to himself, that the pile of ashes was nothing more than a cruel trick.

It'd been hours since he started calling and there was still no answer.

Purupurupurupurupuru…

"Pick up."

There had been low murmurs on the other side of the door laced with uncertainty over their precarious situation. The crewmen knew he did not have it in him to adopt the title of Captain of the Heart Pirates, and that no-one else would dare make an offer for fear of upsetting him. Those whispers turned into tentative suggestions, ones of stepping foot off the submarine and never stepping back on.

Penguin might be the first mate, but he didn't have the leadership qualities that Law naturally possessed. He could bark orders at the crewmen but he couldn't command them to follow him because he had no ambition and nothing to offer them.

He had no right to ask them to stay.

They were leaving and he couldn't do a thing to stop them.

"Pick up, dammit!" he screamed.

"Penguin?"

It took a second to recognise the sound of his own name. Penguin turned to see Iruka standing in the doorway with a tray in her hands, eyes wide at his unseemly outburst.

Her eyes…

Penguin vaguely realised that it was the first time they had looked into each other's eyes even though they'd known each other for years because he always avoided eye contact with unfamiliar people. He hadn't thought it was that big of a deal but Iruka tried dozens of times to sneak a peek, not that she succeeded because he learned what she was up to and avoided her attempts to dislodge his hat. It became a ritual over time and she never won because he was always two steps ahead of her in their little game.

How strange that it ended here.

Iruka crossed the room and set the tray down with a clatter. She reached out to remove the receiver from his hand, skin warm against his own, and set it back into the snail with a clack of finality.

"It's time to stop," she softly said.

"Iruka… I…" He choked on the aching lump in his throat.

"It won't connect."

Silently, she handed him a cup of tea. He raised it to his shaking lips and gulped half of it down, not caring that it was boiling hot, that it burned it tongue, or that it tasted of sweet jasmine.

How could he care when he had to acknowledge the possibility that Law no longer lived?

Penguin kept the cup pressed against his lips until he recovered enough of his composure. Once he gathered himself, he set the cup down and asked, "You're still here?"

"It's probably intrusive of me, but I can't leave now."

"It's not intrusive at all. You're an honorary member of this crew. "As hard as Penguin tried, his voice shook and he couldn't even make the declaration sound positive.

Iruka gave him a half-hearted smile. "You don't have to flatter me. I'm not a part of you guys."

"No, really. I mean it," Penguin said, more firmly this time. "Even now when we're in this mess, you're the one making sure we're okay while I'm…" He made a vague gesture towards himself. He didn't know what he was doing, but it certainly wasn't beneficial to the crew.

"You're allowed to grieve."

And there lay the crux of his guilt. Penguin didn't believe he had the right to mourn when he knew he should have opposed Law's decision with greater insistence. He'd always been uneasy about Law going off by himself and the fact that Law was supposed to face off with Doflamingo this time did nothing to allay his fears. But he'd quashed them all down and chose to trust Law's judgement.

He should have listened to his gut.

Penguin lifted the cup to his lips again and his sleeve fell loosely around his forearm, exposing the virus tattoo that adorned his skin. Iruka glanced at it and her face set into an expressionless mask. She would have seen similar tattoos on other crew members but there was a light in her eyes that told him this was different.

"You know, don't you?" Penguin raised his arm and flashed the tattoo. "Why we have these."

"The rest of the crew treat them as an extension of the Jolly Roger," Iruka replied. "But yours go deeper, literally and figuratively."

"That was a dumb question, wasn't it?" Penguin gave a wry smile. "Your informant reputation precedes you. So how much do you really know?"

"Everything."

Penguin cocked an eyebrow but didn't ask for an elaboration. Iruka didn't dish out information for free and he couldn't bring himself to make a decent offer and dig up the past again. Some things weren't meant to be brought back to light.

So she knew that the tattoos on his body covered up scars Law inflicted whilst under Doflamingo's control. The one on his forearm was a particularly nasty one. Law had stabbed him five times with a scalpel, then connected the dots like some kind of childish pastime. Thankfully, Penguin didn't remember much due to the haze of pain that clouded his mind. The most vivid detail he recalled were the cold ceramic tiles beneath him, wet and slippery with his blood.

More clearer were Law's sobbing promises, that they would run away from this hellhole when they were strong enough and start new lives like they had never set foot on the Don Quixote mansion grounds. When they finally did escape, the first thing they did was cover up their scars. Law was satisfied hiding them under ink. But it wasn't the same for Penguin. He knew the scars were still there, marring his skin and waiting for the chance to rear their ugly heads.

"I shouldn't have let him go alone," Penguin muttered.

Iruka tilted her head in consideration. "It's strange, you know? Shachi raved on and on, refusing to believe Law was in danger even though the vivre card was burning up. He had so much faith that his captain would come through it alive, yet here you are, wishing that you hadn't trusted Law in the first place."

"That's not what I—" Penguin started.

Iruka held up a hand. "Let me finish. I'm a businesswoman through and through. Everything is black and white and if something appears grey at first glance then I split enough hairs until I can throw it into one category or another. There's no in-between. But things like assumptions and feelings? They're too fickle and all too easily lost when there are no foundations to hold them down. They change all too easily and that… it frightens me."

She twisted her fingers together and lapsed into silence, uncomfortable with the vulnerability she just expressed.

"When we were little, Shachi said I was the most important person in his life, that he would never do anything to hurt me. I believed him then but now I know it's not true." Her eyes dulled as she looked back into a past she no longer cared about. "It hasn't been true for years."

"You're his sister," Penguin said. "He'll always love you."

"It felt like betrayal to my ten year old self and I hated him for it. I resented every nonchalant letter and every stupid souvenir he sent. But over the years, I came to terms with his decision to leave me and thought that maybe, one day, I'll be able to look at him the way I used to. I thought I could change. Be like you. That I'd be able to work up the nerve to trust my brother again the way you unconditionally trusted Law. But you didn't, did you?"

"I put all my faith in Law," Penguin quietly said. "Perhaps not so much in his decisions."

Iruka nodded. "I don't know if I'll ever reach the point of trusting someone again. But there's one thing I do know: putting your trust in someone is the ultimate gift. I don't think that's something to regret no matter what the consequences are."

She plucked something from the tray and held it out. It was a small wooden box shaped like a treasure chest with a golden latch on the front.

"I put the ashes in here. I thought it'd be best to give them to you as you've been with Law the longest."

Penguin accepted the chest with a blank look. He still hadn't forgotten the horror that washed over him when he laid eyes on the pile of grey in Bepo's paws and he didn't want anything to do with them. But he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he set it on the controls and muttered, "Thanks."

Iruka held the tray close to her body. "Will you be okay?"

The anxious concern in her voice made him smile. "I'll be fine."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

Iruka nodded and left quietly. Not a minute later, there was a loud knock on the door.

"I said I'll be fine, Iruka."

"It's not Iruka."

Penguin swivelled around. "Jean Bart?"

The giant man hunkered through the doorframe and took a seat at the controls. The chair bent and creaked ominously, making Penguin look away and wince because he'd long convinced himself that the chair was going to break when the giant slouched in it.

"How're you holding up?" Jean Bart rumbled, low and soft, almost comforting in this cold and gloomy room.

Penguin wanted to tell the big man that he was fine, that the bags under his eyes meant nothing, that he was tired and needed a nap. But one look at Jean Bart's eyes and he couldn't bring himself to lie.

"Not fine," Penguin whispered. He drew his feet up onto the seat of his chair and rested his chin on his knees like he did when he was a child, wanting to curl up into a ball and sink into darkness where he would not have to face this nightmare. "I don't know what to do."

"You just need time."

"I don't have time." Penguin pushed his fringe back and pulled at the ends of his hair. "You must have heard them talking. They're already thinking of leaving. I don't know how to stop them. If I should stop them. I don't want to let the crew disband but there's nothing left to hold us together."

"Mm-hmm." Jean Bart gave a slow and understanding nod. At that moment, Penguin remembered that the big man used to be a captain before he was captured as a slave for the nobles.

"Your crew," Penguin said. "What happened to them?"

Jean Bart blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. "Most of them died trying to protect me. I told those fools to get away but the held their ground and refused to part way. The slavers ended up killing them and getting me anyway. My men wasted their lives." He gave Penguin a sideways glance. "I know why Law chose to leave you behind and I empathise with his decision. You all would have thrown yourselves into the jaws of death to protect him and that's not what he wanted."

There was always a chance they could have been wiped out. But there was always a chance that they could have won.

"What if we could have saved him?"

"It's too late for what-ifs." Jean Bart reached over and took the chest, cradling it like a child in his meaty hands. "We can only move forward. Maybe it won't be together, maybe our paths will diverge. But there's nothing to say that we won't find each other again in the future."

Penguin's shoulders sagged. "That wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear. I was hoping you'd have better advice as a former captain."

Jean Bart chuckled. "I can't say I've ever faced a problem like this before. But I know you're thinking too much about the crew like you always do. They're important but right now it's not about them. Whether you like it or not, the position of captain has fallen to you by default. That means what you want is important. So, what do you want right now?"

Penguin lifted his head from his knees and stared at the den-den mushi which snored peacefully, oblivious to the strained tension in the submarine. It wore a little spotted hat and sported a ridiculous goatee which Penguin always found atrocious. But right now, more than anything, Penguin wished he could see that stupid goatee again.

"I want to see Law," Penguin said. "I want to find him and give him the burial he deserves."

Jean Bart nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea. When do we leave?"

Penguin looked at his friend in confusion. "W-What do you mean? I wasn't…"

"He was my captain too," Jean Bart gently reminded.

Those five words nestled over his skin like a comforting blanket and filled him with newfound warmth.

Penguin wasn't alone in this situation.

"He was everyone's captain," Penguin slowly said. "They'll want to hold a funeral for him too."

Even though it was his responsibility to oversee the crew for the time being, he felt that they all had the right to make this decision with him. But there was no need to consult them because he knew, without a doubt, what their decision would be.

"Gather the crew," Penguin instructed. "Tell them we're going to Punk Hazard."

"That's the spirit." Jean Bart's deep, throaty growl of approval resonated within the walls as he lumbered out. "Keeps our spirits up too."

When he was alone again, Penguin leaned back in his chair and exhaled. The pressure of looking after the crew weighed down on him, but it was different from before when all he could do was try and call Law in a state of panic. Now that he had calmed down and directed himself towards a clear goal, assurance allowed him to take his first clear breath in hours.

The chest still sat on the controls. Penguin picked it up and wondered how something as significant as a vivre card could weigh so little when it was a direct link to a person's life force. Then again, they weren't the same thing. Burying these ashes would bring no closure. Penguin needed to see Law's body for himself, and there would be no substitute.

That settled, it made the remains in the chest obsolete. Penguin pressed a combination of buttons on the controls and a hatch screeched open in the wall. He caressed the chest one last time before tossing it into the chute where it would be discarded into the ocean.

The chest sank deeper into darkness as water seeped into its crevices and pushed the latch apart.

Once free, the lid opened up and from it, a single piece of paper floated out.

A.N.

Great big hugs to everyone who sent those lovely messages when I went though a meltdown last time. You are all a beautiful and understanding bunch and I adore you like I adore pumpkins.

A lot.

I adore pumpkins a lot.