Bushido finally opened his eyes, the once-scarred eye still stubbornly showing nothing but a cloudy mist, to cold granite. For a moment his brain stalled (granite? Merry's ceiling was hearty wood not cold stone…), then the implications settled in and he nearly let out a whoop.
He wasn't on Merry. They had brought him to a doctor. To Drum.
To Chopper.
They hadn't abandoned him.
And for just a moment, a warm and comforting blanket draped across his lower body, he let himself just grin and bask in the underserved show of trust.
Then, on the other side of the room, Luffy let out a snore. And everything came crashing down around Bushido's head. His fingers bunched up the woollen blanket, digging further and further into the warm material, as the full weight of his actions bore down upon his soul. A ball of anger and self-loathing sat heavy in his chest and Bushido felt his throat tightening. He wanted to lash out, to hurt someone, but there was no one.
It was all his own damn fault.
He had let his guard down. He of all people, had deemed the situation safe and had relaxed; confident that he could handle anything Little Garden could throw at him. Had he learned anything from the incident back at Sabaody all those years ago? Or in the days and weeks that followed, bloody and bandaged fingers clutching at the yellowing newspaper clipping, as he looked down at the black and white photo of a solemn Luffy holding a bouquet of flowers juxtaposed against the grinning face of Ace?
Confidence kills.
He had known that Mr. 3's partner had played some part in what happened in Little Garden and, in hindsight, it was so obvious that she had been the one with the mind control paints. How the hell had that slipped through his mind? That had been the main treacherous thought niggling through his mind while he had been trapped in his mind, a prisoner in his body.
How?
The answer was nearly deceptive in its simpleness, she hadn't done anything last time. Period. Sure, she had managed to get control of Luffy, but she hadn't actually done anything with him. Someone had broken Luffy free (here his memory was especially blurry, he couldn't remember how Luffy had been freed...had Usopp done something?) and as a result, no one had been really hurt by her.
Hell, he was even pretty sure that Luffy had mentioned something about Carue, Vivi's oversized duck, landing the final blow on the little girl.
And so the girl- she had nearly killed them all and Bushido still couldn't remember her codename- had been reduced to a footnote at the back of Bushido's mind on Little Garden. Something he couldn't remember, no matter how much he had tried, until his memory had been stimulated.
And stimulated it had been. In the worst possible way.
Why had he let his guard down in enemy territory? Why hadn't he just viewed the memories on the ship late at night when everyone was asleep? It hadn't been that urgent. So, why? Why had he hesitated so long before trying to give control to his younger self? He should've done so the second he figured out that he couldn't break free.
Why. Why. Why.
The same questions continuously vibrated in his head over and over, taunting him with his failures. For him, it had only been a few hours since Little Garden.
The wounds were still fresh and raw for Bushido.
He had been grateful, though he struggled to show it (his younger self was great at pushing his buttons), for the company of his younger self in the mindscape. If he had been on his own with just Nami's haunting screams echoing in his ears and the image of her bloody and broken body seared into the back of his eyelids whenever he closed them, he wasn't sure how he would've handled it.
The silence would've been...maddening.
Sitting in the silent stone room, it feeling akin to a closed tomb, with nothing breaking the silence but his own soft breaths and Luffy's on-off snores, he could feel the memories boiling in their intensity. When his eyes blinked, the image of Nami fallen before him seemed more vivid, the blood a shade brighter, the jungle just a slight luscious shade deeper of greens and browns. Nami's garbled and distorted pleadings now were clear as day, assaulting his ears.
Zoro...why
Bushido jumped out of the bed, the freezing cold stone attacking his sense of touch as he hopped awkwardly on the pads of his feet. The icy cold sent jolts of pain running up his sluggish legs, the limbs stinging as fresh blood finally thundered through his veins again. His feet idly carried him to the window overviewing the cropping the castle was situated on, hands idly undoing the rusted latch and letting the cold air in.
The metallic grey sky was streaked with rays of soft ambers and vivid violets, the edge of the sun just visible peering over the snowy horizon. Bushido let out a breath, the beautiful sight banishing the dark turn his thoughts were taking, and let his Haki softly spread out across the decrepit castle.
Four vastly different presences pinged back against his Haki, sending a wave of mixed emotions back to Bushido. He paused, sucking in the crisp and delightfully cold air, as his mind categorised the presences. The old hag (it seemed he had made a habit of forgetting people's names…), Chopper, Nami and Luffy.
The hag had a sort of wise content air around her, the sort of aura he only ever sensed off the old and the people who had figured out what they wanted to do in life...and were doing it. A small sliver of unease flickered through her, not the kind of worry that would keep you up at night but enough that the mere thought of it could spoil any happy occasion, slowly growing brighter. "Wapol," Bushido said out loud, watching the icy mist escaping from his mouth as his fingers curled around the icy window ledge, "Wapol and the lack of doctors in Drum."
Chopper's aura was that, quite frankly, of a child. Bubbly, innocent and oh so naive. The kind of aura Bushido expected any young child to have really. But there was a darker, more bitter, undertone to that. Anger, fear, bitterness. Those emotions seemed to hang just below the surface of the reindeer's skin, dark reminders of his less than ideal early life. It was a true testament to Chopper that he hadn't let those jaded and cynical experiences rule over his entire life. And even further down, down in the marrow of Chopper's bone, was the animal. The base thing that lived only by instincts, the thing that had been all but annihilated by the eating of the Hito Hito no Mi.
Bushido stiffened the moment Nami's aura brushed against his consciousness. "No," he said, his skin paling and goosebumps rising on his skin as his curled fingers shattered the ice built up on the window ledge, "no." The happy and mischievous glittering aura, chipped away by hardships but still glowing in spite of it all, was gone.
Shattered into a million little pieces.
The golden hue of her aura was gone, just gone. It didn't even have the impression of a colour anymore, something all vibrant and strong souls had. It was just there. Hanging in the air in vapourish wisps, like a light fog in the early morning air. A meek and hurt vibe rolled off her softly, almost hesitantly. As if it was worried that the simple act would hurt her even more.
A far cry from the mischievous and vibrant personality that it had replaced.
Ignoring the deep pang of pain and grief, he moved on.
Onto Luffy.
Luffy's presence still burned like the sun incarnate, enveloping everything around it in its warmth. Even muted in sleep, the sheer and utter brilliance of it nearly blinded Bushido's other senses. Small rivulets of unease ran through it, dotted patterns akin to that of a constellation of a night sky. Stress marks on his aura caused by worry and stress.
A colourful faucet of hope and human goodness, multi-faceted and formed by Luffy's turbulent life. He had seen the good and the bad of humanity and had come out stronger because of it. A natural leader, followers flocking to him like moths to the flame.
But it had changed in a way that was both drastic yet subtle (and wasn't that a paradox in itself?) since Bushido had last felt it. It had morphed into something that reminded him, so much so that it caused his chest to ache, of the old Luffy.
Now an electrical undercurrent of power and dominance ran through it, glowing in its absoluteness.
It seemed that his younger self hadn't been mistaken when he described how he had lost against Luffy.
The Haki of the Conquering King.
The stress had managed to unlock Luffy's hidden power, the one in a million weapon of legend and folklore. The power to bend and break the will of fellow man and to totally dominate any creature of lower intelligence.
Bushido's fingers drummed against the cold stone ledge as he fully processed the new information. The power was surging erratically under Luffy's skin, jumping from nearly nothing to full blast. A dark, swirling maelstrom throwing out its tendrils in a desperate effort to further dominate Luffy.
Bushido fought back a soft smile at the sight of the fraying tendrils and the near meek look of the so-great power. Luffy had been in a desperate, stressful situation and had not had anyone to discuss the power with. And yet still he had not buckled.
He had truly shown that he was deserving of having won the genetic lottery when it came to the power.
Luffy's aura snapped like elastic without any warning, a cluster of emotions tumbling out in every direction and drowning each other out. His aura shone even brighter, a beacon throughout Drum for anyone who could sense it (which was just Bushido and Sanji, but still) and the great Haki swarmed to the edges of Luffy's aura, tasting the air.
Bushido tightened his body as a wall of the absolute Haki smashed into him, his teeth bared and the hairs on his body stood up. Its presence in the air was suffocating, commanding him to buckle and break in the face of absoluteness.
But Bushido had faced down stronger Haki than this and, with one final growl, threw the presence off. It lingered, stunned, in the air for a moment before falling back inside its vessel. Bushido took one final deep breath, good eye drinking in the landscape of the early morning, before turning around. "Luffy."
The rubber teen sat upright in his bed. His eyes were shadowed even with no hat to draw the shade from, the Haki coiled around his skin like a lazy serpent. "You." The word was uttered with venom, as if it was a foul curse.
Time to face the music, Bushido thought grimly, as he sauntered over.
He would abide by Luffy's decision, whatever it would be.
Luffy was his judge, jury and, though he hoped it never came to that (and it would interfere with his mission), executioner. Always had been. Always would be.
Unless his decision was for Bushido to stay away from the Straw Hat Pirates.
That was one order from his captain that he would break willingly.
The white soil indigenous to Baltigo crunched underneath his boots as he trudged the final few metres towards his main base. The building was crude, only a few storeys high, and carved from base stone. The antithesis of the Holy Land Mariejois and the grotesque caricature of humanity housed within its elegant ivory walls: the Celestial Dragons.
"H-halt", a quivering voice called out from the main gate once he was practically under the guard's nose, "state your purpose!" The shout came out rather meek, a cluster of frayed nerves as the guard waved his gun around.
Monkey. D. Dragon gripped the edge of his dark green hood and (he would deny his love for theatrics until his dying breath), with a smirk, pulled it down to reveal his face. The guard instantly paled ten shades and hastily saluted, sweating bullets. "Sir!"
Dragon frowned at the young man shaking in his boots in front of him. "You new here? I don't recognise your face, soldier."
"I-i-i was brought in two weeks ago...sir!" The guard started and added violently at the end, fearfully gazing up at Dragon as if he was going to smite the man with lightning from the sky.
Dragon's frown grew deeper. While the duty of gate guard was just a formality really (Baltigo was safely squirreled away in the heart of the Revolutionary territory and even if an enemy snuck this far in, they always had a couple of people capable of Haki stationed in Baltigo who could sense an intruder. And if there was someone who could mask their presence well enough to fool Dragon's top men, well, a gate guard wasn't going to stop them), it rubbed Dragon the wrong way to have someone this green at the entrance. "Who stationed you at the gate, soldier?"
"S-sabo, sir!"
Of course it was.
It seemed like all of Dragon's troubles these days led back to the amnesic blond. Taking Dragon's thoughtful silence as permission to speak freely, the guard clutched his gun even tighter as he pointed at Dragon. "S-sir Dragon, sir!" The guard practically screamed in Dragon's face. "I'll need to see some sort of ID and I'll need to call the base, sir!" The guard briefly nudged his gun towards the table inside the guard outpost, where the Den Den Mushi was located.
Dragon flickered out of existence, reappearing several metres behind the guard with the Den Den Mushi held lightly on top of his right palm. The guard squawked and wheeled around, nearly dropping the gun in the process. "Sir, wait!"
"Drop all the sirs and the yelling, soldier," Dragon called out over his shoulder as he hefted the burned and scarred Den Den Mushi closer to his face, "and do you know any other languages, by any chance?"
The out of left field question threw off the guard and, by extension, his nervousness. "Yeah, why?"
"Try and say the sentence in your head first in the other language," Dragon advised, "then imagine you are just translating it as you speak out loud...should help with your stutter problem."
"Sir!"
Dragon glared at the Den Den Mushi's twinkling eyes as he strided towards the main doors, passing soldiers saluting him as he passed while the higher-up men simply nodded at him. "I presume you were listening in?"
"I didn't know you cared," Sabo cooed, his voice tinny and distorted by the receiver, "you're just a big old softie under all those gruff and mysterious layers, aren't you?"
"Brat," Dragon muttered fondly as he entered the stone corridor, "I assume you have a minute?"
"Paperwork or you," Sabo's voice mused, "gimme a second to think over my options?"
"You in your office then?" The question was rhetorical in nature, a social nicety. He could feel Sabo's bright aura, dampened with boredom as he procrastinated doing his work, in the vicinity of his office.
"Yeah." Then a tinge of excitement clear even through the Den Den Mushi. "You got a mission for me?"
"Of a sort," Dragon agreed, "I need you to meet with one of Whitebeard's Commanders."
"Sure, consider it done," the voice said eagerly. A moment of silence with the only sounds being that of Dragon's boots echoing off the stone floor as he walked. Then the Den Den Mushi's eyes bulged in its sockets and the sounds of crashing furniture and piles of paperwork being knocked over blared through the receiver, you could always count on Sabo being clumsy when he was shocked. "Eh...mind running that one past me again? I think I misheard you…"
"Or more specifically the 2nd Division Commander," Dragon pressed on, drawing close to the real Sabo now, "the rookie who was making waves a while back, remember the guy?"
The Den Den Mushi had actually managed to pale, very impressive for a snail. "By god, you're actually serious about this. Allying with Whitebeard...forget ripples and waves, this is going to cause tsunamis." Now the voice was dead serious, the snail's eyes searching Dragon's. "You sure we're ready to make such a blatant move? The World Government won't be able to overlook such a blatant move, it'll mean all out war. And frankly speaking, assuming we even get Whitebeard's help, I'm not sure we would have the men or resources to last long against-"
"Calm yourself," Dragon interrupted, "I didn't say anything about allying up with Whitebeard."
"Don't mess with me, you so did!" Sabo accused, the snail's eyes glaring. "You said I'd have to meet up with the 2nd Division Commander of his crew."
"Indeed, but last time I checked," Dragon said, spotting the door to Sabo's office in the distance, "that doesn't make him Whitebeard."
A squawk of indignation. "You want to me go behind the back of one of the Yonko and meet up with one of his strongest and most loyal men. That right? Just want to make sure my facts are set straight."
Dragon shrugged. "In essence, yes."
"That's practically a suicide mission." A bubble of tinny laughter from the receiver. "But it beats the vast amounts of paperwork I have here."
Dragon smiled in spite of himself. "You know the man I am referring to, correct?"
"Portgaz, right? The Fire Fist himself," Sabo responded, "pretty powerful fruit he got a hold of there. Why is it so important that I talk to him?"
Dragon's fingers curled around the brass doorknob as he prepared to drop the bombshell that had been delivered to him at Loguetown by his son's crewmate. "He may be related to your past." The door screeched, Sabo should really oil the hinges more, as Dragon pulled it open.
The young man was silhouetted against the office's large oval window, cloaked against the sun's rays, as he perched on the edge of his upturned wooden desk. His right hand was extended towards the door, palm raised and spread out, but the gruff Den Den Mushi had clattered to the floor amongst the fallen paperwork. Sabo's face had gone deathly pale, highlighting the scarring on his face. "My past?" The words were barely a whisper on the wind.
"Don't get your hopes raised too high but, yes, I believe so."
New-found fire burned in Sabo's dark eyes. "I'll do it."
"ZORO!"
"WHY?"
Luffy let out a strangled gasp as he was ejected from his haunting nightmares and back into the equally nightmarish reality, Sweaty limbs were tangled in sweaty sheets and Luffy stared blankly up at a stone ceiling. Taking advantage of his confusion, the power burst out from his skin.
Only immediately to retreat back to Luffy's side, like a scorned child hiding behind its mother's skirt. Eyes shining with relief and awe, Luffy craned his neck to see what had managed to beat back the absolute power only to feel his breath hitch in his throat.
Zoro, looking tense and ready for battle, stared right at him.
Anger thundered through Luffy's veins, the power hanging in the air around him. "Zoro." His voice was low and guttural and it took all of Luffy's self-control not to recoil at the tone of his own voice, how utterly alien and ruthless it sounded to his ears.
"Luffy, I thought you might have had Conqueror's Haki."
The comment so absolutely out of nowhere and eager for confirmation, Luffy found his anger fleeting for a single moment. "Vivi mentioned that she thought it was that, wasn't sure if she was right or not. Do you know how to control it?"
Zoro grinned, the tight smile not reaching his eyes. "I have a few ideas."
The sound of Nami's terrified screams and broken pleas rang in Luffy's head and the renewed rage coursed through his veins again. Luffy crossed the room in a blur, sending the sheets flying, fingers clutching at Zoro's shoulders. "Why?" The growled word was accompanied by another burst of the power, it desperately trying to smother the taller man.
Zoro's eyes softened slightly, his larger fingers prying Luffy's hands away. The rubber appendages hung loosely at his side, unsure if they should give the green-haired man the chance to explain or just beat him to a bloody pulp. Nami's scream urged him down the path of bloodshed with only his days of bonding with the swordsman anchoring him to the path of reason. Luffy took another breath. "Explain...please." The request came out far weaker than Luffy would've liked.
Zoro frowned, this facial expression finally reaching his eyes. "Did Vivi not explain it to you?"
Hope, a foreign feeling in recent days, begun to burn in Luffy's chest. The power shrieked and fell back deep within Luffy at the newfound mental strength. Desperately trying to not show the happiness on his face that Zoro wasn't to blame, Luffy spoke. "Vivi had a theory, yeah, she said something about a Baroque Works agent. Paints that could control people or something."
Zoro grimaced. "I'm not proud to admit it...but yeah, the little witch got me good. She snuck up behind me while I was napping and painted some weird black symbol on my back. I could only watch from inside as I...as I..." The green-haired man trailed off awkwardly, his eyes downcast to the floor.
Luffy felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders as his customary ear-to-ear splitting grin appeared across his face. Of course Zoro was innocent. This was Zoro after all! Throwing caution to the wind, he went to tackle the swordsman with a cry. Only to hesiated, feet glued to the stone floor as darker thoughts begun to take shape in the back of his head. Niggling worries that he couldn't dismiss, least he be reminded of Nami's bloodied and tearstained face.
Zoro being controlled and being in no way shape or form responsible for his actions...that was a little too convenient, wasn't it? Even by Grand Line standards.
Luffy's hands snaked up and grabbed the man by his distinctive green hair, pulled him down with a jolt so that they were face-to-face. "Look at me," he insisted, "right in the eyes." Slowly, almost hesitantly, Zoro's eyes (it was so rare to see him without an eyepatch, the sight of the cloudy eye always struck a chord deep within Luffy) moved back up.
Black and cloudy into brown.
People had often commented as he grew up that Luffy was very attuned to his more base animalistic side, able to tell if people were lying to him or not in an instant when it really mattered. That on some level he just knew when he was being lied to.
Sure, he spent most of the treating any outlandish claim from any random drunk as gospel but when it counted...really counted, it was different. His animalistic side would just know the truth. Old Man Dadan and the Mountain Bandits along with Ace (Sabo too, a small part of his mind that delighted in reopening old wounds whispered) had always been jealous of it.
And right now, nearly broken by some strange power and unable to trust the petty reassurances of mere words, Luffy relied on that same animalistic side to make the right choice.
"Are you telling the truth?"
Zoro's face was set in stone. "About the Baroque Works girl? Yeah, of course I am."
Luffy believed him. Honestly believed him.
And he definitely wasn't crying as he hugged him.
Things were delicate. They had to deal with the fallout between Zoro and the rest of the crew.
But right there and then, bathed in the early dawn's rays, none of that mattered.
"No secrets, none whatsoever." Luffy was not sure why he said the words but he felt on some deeper level that he had to, that not saying it would be a mark against him as a captain.
Zoro's burly arms returned the hug and his voice was gruff when he answered. "Yeah, no secrets."
