Another long chapter. Think of the next one as "Chapter 11: Part Two", even if I'll call it 12. I had to split this monster.

After such a long break, it surprised me that it's still possible for people to maintain an interest in this type of story.

Thanks for keeping up and giving your feedback if you ever did so, it really helps tune my writing.

I must personally thank JLBB for keeping up with this thus far. I really appreciate your feedback; you are awesome!

~Swaben

Chapter 11:

The Lady and the Liar

"Klahadore?"

A thin young woman sat by the window, surrounded by whitish walls and bed coverings. It was early morning, and everything appeared exceedingly clear outside. Her pale, flaxen hair acquired a radiant glow from all of the light that scattered inside of her spacious bedroom.

"May I have a glass of water?"

She coughed weakly, clutching her fragile knees. Sighing to herself afterwards, she appeared distraught, and despondently leaned against the pastel pillows ornamenting the mattress. Her petite frame was shrouded in the faded blue of her sleeping gown. If anyone was to guess, she appeared to be about sixteen.

"Yes, m'lady."

The valet cart rolled, creaking a bit, and the butler stopped it with a deceivingly gentle hand. He watched as the water transferred from the pitcher and swirled into the translucent glass, creating a multitude of tiny spheres of light from the reflections. Her blanched hand took it from his, and it shook in her grasp.

"Thank you," she smiled at the window. The birds that dwelt in the nearby tree already started serenading the sun with their shrill songs. He remembered how much she enjoyed watching them flit around on the branches that grew their limbs closest to her.

"Do you ever think I'll be able to travel away from here? I feel so confined."

Her eyes averted to the outside world. The fountain in the estate's massive front yard regally sparkled. Although the girl tried to hide how pained she appeared, there was no disguise that would barricade her bespectacled caretaker from her emotions. They seemed intense, far too clear, and naked in front of his cutting eye.

"I'm not certain, Miss Kaya. Though I would hope that you would find a calling that makes you happy. A bright young lady like yourself shouldn't spend her days wasting away behind walls. Better days are coming," he assured her as if he was following a formula. He echoed to the words to himself and his vision lingered lustfully to the mansion's golden gates that stretched into brilliant, glimmering yellows. "Better days."

"I hope so," she sighed. She lifted her head to subtly smile back at him. "You always make me feel better, Klahadore. We were about to hire someone else, but then we found you. I like you a lot more… Even if you are a little quarrelsome."

She watched his facial expression change and tried not to laugh, but she gave in to his surprised frown.

"I'm sorry. You know that I'm just kidding."

"It's not a problem," he exchanged a small smile with her and watched as her eyes softened. "Quarrelsome, huh? It just has to be that word?"

"Quarrelsome: apt to argue in an often petty manner. Contentious," she tittered at him, humoring herself by pushing the limits of her mischievousness.

"Oh, now I'm contentious, too!" the slim man tightened his lip. "Well, you've certainly been studying."

Kaya exchanged a proud smile with him. Her focus drew to the outside again. Some of the leaves were cradled in the gentle wind. A small bird seemed content alighting on the branch and just staring at her, moving its feathered head from side to side and cheeping. They had such airy freedom, even the young ones.

"Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to be a bird?"

"No. Never. I haven't," the butler adjusted the small washcloth that was slung over his arm. "I can only be glad that it stays out there, and not anywhere near me," he compulsively rubbed his nose and snuffed the air at the thought.

"Oh, that's right. I find it sad that you're allergic to such lovely animals. I'm sorry that I mentioned it."

"There isn't a need to apologize for anything, my lady."

His words were said with such formulaic insistence, his soft tone masking a desolate interior.

"Would you like to go out to town today? We can get breakfast. It's a beautiful day."

"Oh, that's not necessary," the tallish man replied hastily. "I have plenty of work to do here."

"Well, maybe Usopp can come with me. He's always up for an adventure," she fawningly smiled towards the window this time. She was a young girl with an unlikely friend: a young girl potentially in love, while she was still blissfully unaware of its meaning.

"Him, of all people? Miss Kaya, that boy is hazardous to your upbringing—he's a bad influence. He has the blood of the pirate coursing through him, and that can never be trusted."

The manservant adjusted the collar of his crisp, black uniform with a sheltering glare.

"… I think you're wrong," Miss Kaya frowned, her look becoming vulnerable. "You should try and spend more time with him—he's really clever, too, just like you are! I wouldn't like him if he wasn't a good person. … Do you really underestimate me and my judgment, Klahadore? The way he talks about his father, he might have been an honorable pirate."

The butler stared at her with flabbergasted astonishment beneath an otherwise collected figure.

"An honorable pirate? That's absurd. Pirates are vile people!"

There was a cutting edge to his voice that disappeared as quickly as it was thrown into the air, and it sounded suspiciously personal, expository and naked. Kaya didn't say anything to combat his sudden flash of emotion.

"I simply won't permit it," he finished, occupying himself by cleaning one of the wine glasses that he had picked up from the valet cart, but he repeated the action unnecessarily, as if out of habit to calm his temper.

A silence fell upon the room and blurred the gap between the two. The sickly girl drew her eyebrows close and stared down at the sheets of her bed, and then up at her butler.

Her response let out in the form of a hesitant murmur.

"You're not my father."

His expression tightened in defense. It was a shockingly powerful statement for a girl like the demure Kaya.

"… I know that, Miss Kaya. I'm only looking out for your safety. That's all. I'm only trying to give you a little extra sense. They'll only hurt you in the end, and to think that they have children so freely is sickening. The brood of one could easily be traitorous. But, I digress…" his countenance grew surprisingly warm again, and his voice turned soft, and almost fragile. He aired out a stray feather that crept through the window with his wash cloth. "I suppose that your tolerance stretches far beyond mine. Do as you wish. I'm not stopping you this time."

She sulked at him, noticeably overtaken with sudden guilt, and cast her grey-brown eyes downward, only for the glance to return up towards him.

"I'm really sorry, Klahadore…"

Her voice sounded sincere, and not anything unlike her. But something was off, something was strange: his own vision was trapped within the water vase below him. The light reflecting off of it circled and swirled, and inside of it he glimpsed at a tiny and glimmering moon. It vibrated and distorted with the ripples of water, just then appearing lucid and very bright. He was drawn in, and certain of its anomalous existence.

"Klahadore?"

That familiar voice echoed and seemed to surround him. He felt compelled to continue the situation, but he was stuck, immobile, frozen in that very second. The light that breached the window was overtaking him, and as he finally turned, everything was becoming too bright and indistinguishable, and too unknown. Everything was white, but the voice reiterated, until it fell into a distant hush.

"Klahadore?"

"Klahadore…?"

The white fan shook slowly above him and occasionally creaked.

Its tassel swirled quietly. Bright lines were strewn across the guest bed from the early morning.

He wasn't in an estate. He was far from it.

Kuro wasn't entirely sure that the dream was a pure fabrication to piece together past events, or simply a replay of a memory that had been embedded in his conscience. Either way, he remembered. The Kaya in his dream acted just like the Kaya in reality did. There must have been at least an ounce of truth to the scene, within her very words, and within those that he felt compelled to say.

Klahadore: the name haunted him. Yes, he still dreamed of it. He still dreamed of that place, of her, of them. He recounted all of his deep-seated hatred for Kaya's genuine little smile, her innocence, and her happiness in spite of all of her pain, her losses, and all that was planned for her. Perhaps he was jealous of that trait, though he would never come to terms with it.

Kaya adapted amazingly to imperfect situations. Like a flower petal floating in the breeze, she persisted to wherever the winds would take her with surprising resilience in spite of all the chaos that she could have intensified, and landed in soft soil eventually, where her essence would nourish whatever was around her. She lacked the enormously high expectations that tethered Kuro's heart to frequent anger and dissatisfaction, in a world where he was expected to get along with the people who shared it with him.

It unsettled him, how much she loved him like a daughter would, or even just as a friend. Her parents' untimely and unprecedented deaths made it even more difficult, afterwards having had to take the reins to get her through the tumultuous stages of adolescence. Kaya's loving, familial smile felt like needles under his skin. It made him feel like a block of ice, and he was the single person, up to that fateful day where his plan was ruined, that knew that he wasn't meant to be welcome into such a gracious family. He remembered how he took such vile pleasure in telling her that she was a fool, and that she had been led on for years of her life under his soft-spoken voice and mild eyes. He vividly remembered seeing her clear tears dry on her hands and fall onto the soil, and how his ego scrambled to pick them up as if they were tiny opals trickling down into a safe.

For what?

The question echoed, like an impatient journalist tapping their pen against his skull.

All of it was wasted on a devastating failure, one that would change his life irrevocably. If that Straw Hat didn't show up, he was certain that he would've gotten his way, and his mansion. He was like an immature child, finding excuses after periods of bafflement, finding solace in putting blame not in himself but in the circumstance.

"I've almost forgotten how much I had spent on sake," Kuro mused in his tranquil solitude. "Being away from the old Bezan has been more serendipitous than I thought."

Kuro drank a lot upon his return to sea, irresponsibly so. It was a futile, very human attempt to drink away his grievous disappointment. If he hadn't, he may have still been Captain at this very moment. He was not known for messiness or irresponsibility, especially with thought-altering substances like alcohol, unless he lost his temper, or his mind. His off-color mood swings and drunken tongue-lashings were tiring and frightful for his crew. As soon as he slipped, the consuming sort of depression that came from it was unprecedented and out of character. Or, was it really? These were questions he avoided reconciling, due to fear of feeling weak and spineless, and feeling all like what he had hated for so long.

For what?

Kuro closed his eyes for a moment, and shifted himself to the side of the bed. He put on his glasses and adjusted them in his odd, palm-up way, behind the secrecy of a closed door. He knew that he needed to break the habit. Being alive when the world required him to be doubly dead entitled him to more than enough prudence.

Maybe, he secretly wished that he could have been happy, if he was just like Klahadore. If he was just like Klahadore, he would still be walking through the halls of that mansion, eating fine food, drinking fine spirits, and living an overall fine life as a butler.

If he was truly Klahadore instead of Captain Kuro, he would have been perfectly pleased with that life. Klahadore would have bought a tidy home next to Kaya's estate, and, perhaps settled down with a wife afterwards, and had a few children. There were a handful of women who admired that man. Hungry looks from roaming bachelorettes would occasionally be sent his way, though they tried to hide how their eyes followed him. Over those couple of years he would sometimes be sent flowers from an unknown source, but they would always die within a few days. He rejected these pretty yet otherwise non-functional courtship gifts. He was mildly impressed when at one time a woman had the sense to buy him a nice pair of dark, leather loafers. That made no difference in his opinion of them all, as he found the lot of them unremarkable, unworthy, and painfully unintelligent in comparison to himself.

No woman could see through to his deepest desires. He was quite content with the solitude ever since he was convinced that love was a fantasy-ridden and incomprehensible concept that he would never be burdened to experience. It remained something that he didn't quite understand, or even know for certain if he'd ever felt it. The more that they cared blindly, the less accurate that they became to his fancies. And so, he adamantly wore his striped shoes for his entire career, regardless if they were leftovers from his pirating days.

Then, ironically, he was returned to the sea where they belonged, though it was never in his best interest nor his expectation.

It had already been at least one week since he was recovered off of the Milltonian coast. This was about the seventh day that he'd slept in this guest bed and became Mr. Kurt Pierce. He still found it to be an adjustment, one that he was still in the process of accepting as his decided fate.

What could possibly be any better? Certainly he wouldn't want to work at the fishery, or try his hand as a waiter, having to smile prettily at customers for the entire day. He still wanted to pursue the wealth that escaped him. But simply being in this room, free of the majority of his own belongings that he grew so used to, was still a shock to the senses. He didn't deal well with precarious, unplanned change. He wasn't a tree that bent with the wind; he more so snapped under it, or remained unchangeable even if bending would benefit him during the storm.

His employer's voice could be heard from outside of the bedroom. It sounded like she was caught up in a call, and she was using that flat, forceful tone that often heralded business and importance.

It coaxed him from bed due to his nosiness, and he stealthily leaned against the door-frame to drink in the conversation.

"Excuse me? … No, no, I'm sorry, that's not how you do it. Look, I'm going to be out of town soon, so this number isn't even going to be applicable anymore, you're going to have to reach me at—huh? You have to rotate the cuff on the side until the gas on the inside is sealed within. Then you—yes, perfect. Then you can cook your eggs on it, or whatever else that doesn't spontaneously combust. Okay. No problem. Thank you. Uh-huh. Bye," the loud clunk on the snail phone startled the creature as the inventor sighed.

Her business matters in terms of her own engineering work were of little importance to Kuro, but he was already getting an impression of why she was desperate for change. Nelle picked up the receiver again and groggily held it up towards her ear, still oblivious to his calculated eavesdropping.

"Half of the time, these assholes don't even pay me for putting up with this... What am I, a doormat?" she aimlessly arranged the papers in front of her into a more symmetrical alignment. "Hey, Nelle, you're not going to make a living. What do you even do? An office job?"

What escaped his employer was a subdued, mocking voice that seemed entirely out of his ordinary perception of her. He observed from afar in bewilderment. He wondered how long it would take her to get out of focus and actually notice him.

"Hey, Nelle, can you fix this? Can you fix that? I only have 100 Beri, but can you fix that? From the bottom of your heart, Nelly? For me? What's it like being the only inventor in town? It's really too bad that you're broke all the time!" she flamboyantly gestured with the receiver while the snail attached to it waited expectantly. The very much alive creature shot her a sleepy look, and was thoroughly out of its element. Infuriated, she slashed a phone number with a line of ink from her pen. "Gee, I love your work, but what is it? Instructions? What's that? A manual? I never read instructions. I'm too much of a spoiled wanker to look at them, so, with all due respect, can I be a goddamned nuisance and—!"

The receiver jumped out of the inventor's hand as soon as she noticed his presence. She gave a robust flinch.

"… Oh. It's Mr. Pierce."

The phone's curled wire stretched off of the counter and slowly spun and bounced and twisted near her lap during the awkward quiet. She cleared her throat while he derisively smiled at her. Her slouch switched into an upright sit and her jaw tightened into a forced greeting.

"You're up... Early. I hope that you've been enjoying this weather. Out there is the start of a beautiful day. Calm. Serene. Very quiet. No sea lions," Nelle was clearly attempting distraction with the pointless trivialities of the seasons, and she quickly straightened her demeanor to fall back into her usual business. Her aberrant vendetta against sea lions was still unexplained. In the previous nights, she talked extensively about her suggested target, whom Kuro promptly agreed to seek out with hidden excitement at the prospect of the gold.

A man named Hayato was the leader of those alley ruffians. For his capture, the government wanted as much as 8,000,000 Beri. The numerical form as it was typed onto his record made Kuro anxious with the lust for money.

"He's the son of Higuma the Bear—do you remember that story, by any chance? Have you heard it? It was around nine years ago, or something close; he's the man who got eaten by the sea reptile off of this tiny village's coast," Nelle said. "A freak accident, if I ever heard one. Hayato comes from a long line of bandits who occupy the mountain range bordering the Goa Kingdom's southeast sector."

He was told by Nelle that Peyli and her brother, Derik, the boy whom he dealt a shattered wrist to, were sent to Milltown to ransack boats and townsfolk for supplies, and, most obviously, for money. Why these two were sent so far away from Hayato's apparent stronghold was a mystery to him. Maybe bandits were just irrational. Maybe they didn't know how costly long journeys at sea were since they often didn't take them.

Nelle pointed at the map. "Dawn Island is where they told me Hayato's been preparing his assault on one of the mountain passes, fairly close to an otherwise insignificant farming settlement called Foosha Village. I couldn't push much more out of them, but it's clear that he has his sights set on a large piece of territory around there. ... Have you been there before?"

"Briefly, actually," responded Kuro. "I don't recall it very much... It was a long time ago. I had more important business elsewhere."

His eyes narrowed for a moment as he tried to dig for the memory of who drove him away. He wouldn't dare tell anybody that it actually wasn't his choice to leave.

He shook the thought and tuned it out as it grew too silent.

"I called sources to confirm that he's indeed somewhere in the area, but the police force there is having a hard time. I wouldn't even call them police, their unit is so damned small. It's almost sad," Nelle shook her head. "Foosha Village's southeast portion is right here. It's where we should stay. I didn't want to yammer into Noble business with the Goa Kingdom. They probably wouldn't have even let me on the line."

"That's an awfully long way away from here," Kuro mused how many nautical miles it would be from the scale of the map. "Do you honestly think that a young bandit in his prime would prowl in the same place for so long?"

"I don't exactly know, Mr. Pierce, I'm no bandit. But apparently the mountains surrounding Goa Kingdom are chock full of them."

Kuro had a few minimal run-ins with bandits during his time as a pirate, but he never stayed around them long enough to learn their hierarchies and various methods of looting. He found them to be dirty, confusing creatures, just as typical pirates were to him. It was entirely pompous, judging how he refused to ever accept that he, too, was an integral part of the very menagerie that he found so filthy.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Don't make fun of me. This would be a journey worth investing in. You're one of the strongest men in the East Blue, and since you have a propensity to work alone, I'm making our circle of connections relating to you as tight and minimal as possible, as you requested," she tapped her pen against the map. "There's eight million on the line for his capture, and who knows about the extra pickings from his followers. I think it's worth it, unless you would rather starve. I have faith that such a task wouldn't be fatal for a man like you—eyes on the prize."

Kuro smiled at the prospect of extra money.

"I'm fully capable of taking down some easy mark like him. How old does it say he is? Twenty? He shouldn't be taxing. I'm not worried, but I'll do my share of research beyond what's been given. I'm surprised those kids ratted him out."

"Actually, they didn't exactly rat him out, or they didn't actually mean to... It was more… Hm. Almost a nudge for help, the way they talked about how he was preparing for a battle with a rival. However, I didn't pick up on anyone else as strong or stronger than him in my records…"

Nelle appeared somewhat troubled at any sign of missing data.

"I'm not entirely convinced," Kuro replied dispassionately. "This young man is my target, and I'm going to take it. I have a feeling that those greenhorns could have easily been stretching the truth. Judging by the information you received, it seems that his preparation is still in its beginning stages. … Also, the clients should always go through you, unless I otherwise say so. That ensures my right to privacy. This can't be too difficult," his eyes drew over the report of the bandit leader.

The young man in the photo wore dark shades that shielded the color of his eyes, even though they were marked down as brown. His facial structure was fierce, with a strong brow and the beginnings of a dark beard that was sharply cut and peppered onto his chin. It was very curious how much he resembled his father, the deceased Higuma, when looked at side-by-side, yet he had the much more hale appearance of a youthful fighter. It was ironic that they shared the same bounty.

"Eight million Beri… How much of this will go to me?"

"Oh?" Nelle drew back in confusion. "I thought that I told you. Fifty percent, even."

Kuro's pupils shrunk.

"Fifty percent? You mean tell me that I'll receive half?" he agitatedly stared at the official dividend, stamped boldly with the World Government insignia.

"Yes, that's correct. Do you not remember what I went over with you three days ago? Have you been out drinking? Since you lack proper identification for the World Government… I think this split of bounty money is fair, and reasonable. It's the official dividend."

He glared caustically.

"I bet you turned the cards in your favor, you lying weasel. I was asleep while you were making those calls. I didn't ever hear you talking to an official."

It wasn't difficult nor surprising for Kuro to get aggressive about financial issues. He was on the verge of feeling the anger physically pulse through him.

"You call me a liar when I've been as honest with you as I could. You dare accuse me of being dishonest when your previous career was built on that," Nelle's gaze was intense and it forwent all fear that would otherwise be present. "Ungrateful hellcat, I could have left you to the sharks."

"I would have been just fine," his teeth clenched as he leaned above her.

She drew away.

"You know how miserably you'd be framed if you laid a hand on me now."

Kuro bit his tongue from further annoyance, but his gaze was intense.

"Let's get back on task before I start thinking twice about my options."

Nelle bit the bottom of her pen and began to write. Both cooled down under the silence.

"The payday is worth it, Mr. Pierce," her voice sounded diluted. "This doesn't have to be a dichotomy. This is a joint business. That you should have understood from the very beginning."

"Don't patronize me," he responded icily after his eyes scanned the dividend a second time. "Very well, then. I suppose a sea captain knows little about government dealings, even a man as learned as myself. … So, fifty percent goes to me, fifty percent goes to you. That's a very simple and uncreative proposal on their part."

Nelle responded unexpectedly with a boredom-laden nod.

"Since we need a pool of money for supplies, accommodations, food, and other necessities, I request that at least one fourth of the total earned money go towards it."

"Ms. Nerz, if I have to split that money with anybody else and lower my percentage of pay even more than this, then I swear to you, my remorselessness towards your life is legendary."

"I understand. It's not like I intend to lower my pay either," the inventor actually grinned and gestured at him as if trying to joke. "Anyways. The twelve-point-five percent would be subtracted from each of our pays, and put towards a common bank account. The extraction could be flexible, but have faith in my money management."

She had such redundant compulsions to be as specific as possible. He supposed that he shouldn't complain, as an inaccurate dealer of business, especially if one was unversed in fighting already, would be something close to Hell for someone who valued money to the extent that Kuro did. It saved him the work, but he also ceaselessly bombarded her with challenges with every piece of information—he still wasn't at the stage where he completely trusted her integrity, and his desire for control was obvious.

He made a grabbing motion with his hand.

"Paper. Quickly. Pen. Since you enjoy charts and figures so much, I'm going to draw this out for you, and I'm going to hold you to this money plan… Forever."

"Fair enough," she gave him a quizzical raise of her bold eyebrows, and continued on with her briefing. "Now, you're going to love the transportation deal I was set up with for this. It's so economic, so easy… What are you writing? That doesn't look like a valid…"

His manager suddenly gasped with exasperation at his pen strokes.

"Blackmail…?!"

Kuro glanced at the woman underneath his knowledge of how much she hated another obnoxious and pressing obligation. He contentedly smirked into his own handwriting once he knew how much he had her by the throat.