A/N: Hello again :) Sorry it's a bit late; please enjoy!

Chapter Fifteen

Contemplating the Errand Boy

Attending the Snow Festival of a little town in West Blue is a fun little tradition three years strong for the Red-Haired Pirates. Naturally, being pirates wanted by the World Government, this meant it wouldn't be a tradition for much longer. All of us wanted to make the most of it, but none more so than the captain. Perhaps it isn't so surprising after all that he chose to pick up some souvenirs before leaving.

When I heard the captain introduce the two boys as joining our crew but not as pirates, I was not happy. Who did they think they were, just hitching a ride with us? Was the title of pirate too beneath them or something? The younger one seemed ridiculously immature, laughing his head off like that after his stupid story. The older one was just cheeky and looked kinda prissy in his girlish outfit. It was a bit like a cross between a dress and a bath robe.

Happy or not, though, obeying one's captain was a part of being a pirate, so I decided not to make too big a deal of it. I almost felt sorry when the captain assigned them cooking duty. Usually the first cooking duty was my job since I was the only one in the crew who could cook anything remotely resembling the meals we spoiled ourselves with on land.

The day didn't get much better. For some reason, we were short a rowboat, so I had to squeeze in with Lucky Roo in order to get back to the ship. Lucky Roo's a great guy and personally, I wouldn't mind having him nearby in a fight, but he's not the best person to share a rowboat with. I nearly fell overboard several times.

Lunch that day was irritating. Captain thought the older errand boy did a pretty good job cooking and decided he should have permanent cooking duty. Permanent cooking duty! He practically promoted the kid to the status of ship's chef, far too prestigious for a prissy cabin boy, and it seemed everyone else was too busy stuffing their faces to notice the additional pan on the table.

Well, perhaps that isn't too surprising. No one but I ever used the pan when cooking, but I remembered clearly that there was only one pan like it in the kitchen, so where did the other one come from? So maybe I was being paranoid, I mean, it's just a pan, yeah? But it was strange because the island we were just on didn't sell large pans for roast; I didn't like it.

Pft, if I didn't like that, can you imagine how I felt about the dozen pie tins he brought out for dessert?

When the captain asked for a volunteer to spar with the older boy, I was all for it. I'd show that guy with his fancy cooking skills and swishy clothes that there was more to being on a pirate crew than making pies. Those skinny limbs certainly didn't have much strength in them, and he was dressed like he'd never been in a fight in his life. Clearly he'd never been part of a street fight where such loose clothing could be grabbed or pinned down with a well-placed knife.

He certainly seemed arrogant. There I was, twirling my pistols, and he just stood there, not even drawing any weapons. I started off first, using my infamous double-pistol technique. With two pistols shooting, it was near impossible to dodge, though Captain finds it child's play with his Haki. I aimed mostly for his arms and legs, trying to avoid hitting his vitals. I didn't want to seriously injure the kid, just teach him a lesson, rough him up a little, show him the dangers of joining such a big-time pirate crew and being all flippant about it.

He dodged them all. I couldn't believe it. He seemed to see where every bullet was going and stepped out of the path of each one. It was almost as if he could use the Color of Observation, except he was definitely concentrating with his eyes to keep track of my pistols.

I actually had to reload bullets, and the little fucker threw knives at me! He had throwing knives hidden up his sleeves and actually drew first blood.

So I got a bit mad. This man was dangerous, and the entire time, he played us as some sort of girly cook who wanted to learn how to sail a ship and fight. Ha! No one knows how to dodge my double-pistols and not know how to fight – who did he think he was fooling? I started shooting for real, and he still managed to dodge them all, but this time I moved in. He seemed to have a harder time dealing with all the shots this time, and when I ran out of bullets, I dropped him. For all those great reflexes dodging bullets, he sure didn't do much when he saw my punch coming other than widen his eyes.

I felt better after the fight. It was a little irritating when the boy said he'd be fine after Captain asked if he was alright, but I figured maybe he'd never experienced a temple hit before. Soon enough, he'd realize how serious it was and learn his place.

I felt a little guilty about it after awhile. Looking back, it seemed a bit silly how worked up I got in the fight. He didn't even try to block me when I bashed his head in with the butt of my pistol. Maybe he really doesn't know how to fight, I thought, and his dodging skill was from some sport, or just naturally good reflexes. Crazy good reflexes, but sometimes people are just born gifted that way. I went back to the deck after an hour to help him to the infirmary just in time to see him get up and walk into the kitchen.

Now I was suspicious. My double-pistol technique was something I developed as a pirate, but I lived most of my life as a street-fighter, and if I remembered hitting someone hard on the temple, god-damnit but he'd be down for at least a day.

Just who was this man? First he managed to ingratiate himself with the captain enough to be invited on board the ship without actually joining the crew. Then, when cooking, he somehow manages to find an extra pan and a dozen pie tins to cook in that I've never seen before. Finally, in a fight, he shows unnaturally good reflexes and impossible recovery skills without the use of Haki. Not to mention incomplete control over an unknown power to turn into some sort of ghost-like thing, probably a Devil Fruit.

Forget his pretentious take-over of the kitchen, this guy was dangerous.

I watched the guy carefully at dinner. I was not happy when he brought in the dessert. Again, with the unexplained appearance of cooking utensils that certainly didn't exist in the ship's kitchen.

This next morning, I thought it'd be best to remind him of his place as the ship's errand boy. He didn't seem the least bit fazed and essentially ignored me. That worried me more. I beat him in a fight, hit him hard enough to knock out experienced fighters for at least a day, and he didn't even seem to register me as a threat – just what ace was he hiding up his sleeve? Just what could possibly explain him?

There wasn't much time to think more on it. Captain announced our close proximity with Reverse Mountain, and everyone was to prepare the ship. We all got into position, tied ourselves tight to the ship in case of accidents, and got to work. I was partnered with a good friend of mine on the sail of the stern mast.

"Jealous?"

Make that formerly-good-friend-of-mine now soon to be creamed-into-the-deck-planks-crewmate-of-mine.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come off it, man! Ever since the cap'in made the older newbie chef of the ship, you been glaring at him like no tomo'ah."

"He's not chef, Al" I retort, "just an errand boy on cooking duty. And I'm not glaring at him for a stupid reason like that. Haven't you noticed how strange he is?"

"Oh, yeah, how strange it is that he can actually cook food better than the rest of the crew. I'm telling you, man, that ain't much special. We jus' suck."

"Not that. Ever since he started cooking, pans and tins have been appearing out of nowhere! Our kitchen has never stocked a dessert pan since my first turn at cooking duty, and all of a sudden he's making cakes and pies. I'm telling you, there's something off with that man."

"You're freaking out over a coupla pie tins? C'mon, man! Maybe you jus' never noticed them before, or maybe he brought'em with him. He seems like he's made stuff like that before, it can't be that hard to believe he'd carry some supplies around with'im."

"And how do you suppose he carried all that stuff onto the shi – that bastard!"

"Whoa, there, don't just let go of the sail! What's your problem now?"

"Don't you get it? He's the one that took the missing rowboat and stuck me with Lucky Roo!"

"Well, I suppose it was a bit rude, but he had to get on board somehow, and geez man, we're pirates! Not 'zactly the paragons of politeness, we ain't."

"Tch."

We shut up after that, because at that point we entered the storm and had to concentrate on keeping the sails steady and prevent too much damage.

I kept thinking about it. Petty issues aside, I felt uncomfortable with his presence. He wasn't a pirate. Who's to say one day, he wouldn't just slip something into our food and hand us all over to the marines? Maybe he wouldn't even try with the food – what if healing quickly and dodging bullets was just part of a wider spectrum of abilities, abilities that could kill us in our sleep?

I remember the slip crystal clear. When it was happening, things were moving quickly; the wind, the rain, Alvin's body being lifted up, all of it seemed to happen at once before I could even react.

When I recall it, I see it all in slow motion. The rain collects in a puddle at our feet. A sudden gust of wind blows. Al steps forward for better balance but he slips in the puddle and as his foot rises, the wind grabs a hold of his clothes and tosses him over the back railing. I turn around, lunge forward, reach my hand out, knowing but refusing to acknowledge the fact that I am too late, that I wouldn't reach in time, that I am stretched out completely but still my fingers do not touch the corner of his jacket.

Then suddenly, as if tugged by an invisible hand, that corner is pulled straight into my hands, and time returns to normal. I drag my friend back onto deck and we both tumble to the ground. I turn back and see him, his face wide-eyed and panicked in an expression I knew well from seeing it on small-time marine soldiers when in the shadow of the Red-Haired Pirates' flag.

For all our arguments, and his lazy attitude, and his irritating acorn hat, Alvin was important to me. As a crew, the Red-Haired Pirates looked out for one another, but my friend and I joined the crew at the same time and kept a special eye out for each other. I could've lost him.

Losing someone was something everyone knew could happen at any time. Being a pirate was a dangerous way of life, and so the high risk of losing someone you've slept and ate and worked with for years to a storm or battle was something every pirate had to accept, but it didn't make it any easier to see that someone almost get lost overboard.

Maybe he would've survived anyway. Lazy though he usually is, he did at least tie a lifeline and I probably could've pulled him up that way.

Probably.

Could've.

It was equally likely that that man saved Al's life.

And damned if I'm not grateful for that.

So as I'm trying to open the door into the kitchen – finding it locked even though there is no lock! – I've got tons of questions to ask the man inside.

Most of all, I wish I knew, what do you say to someone like that?

A/N: I hope this chapter cleared some things up. Next chapter we'll see just what happens between the two of them alone in the kitchen (get you heads out of the gutter :p).

Hmm, I don't think I have anything I need to share this time... but I do have an assignment for my readers :) Apparently there is something like a notice-me-not charm in the Harry Potter books, or some similar enchantment on an amulet? I can't find any mention of it in any of the Harry Potter information sites. Please someone direct me to where I might find it! Anything that might be related to the subject would be welcome, whether it be a spell, an enchanted object, or the existence of something that moves and is warded in that way. I've gotten a suggestion that the Hogwarts Express might be an example, but I'm not sure if it's the train that's warded, or just the tracks. Maybe the Knight Bus? That probably won't affect my story in any way though, since it's highly unlikely Harry knows any of the spells or wards that go towards making the Knight Bus.

Thanks again to my beta, RedValentino, and to all my readers who encourage me to keep writing :)

It's January 12, 2011, and I've reached the 200 review mark! SQUEE