This took ages to come out, I'm so sorry, I'm terrible. This story is getting a move on, however, hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four: The Red Thread

The weather this morning was not near as picturesque as yesterday's. The afternoon's rain had lasted well into the night and was still lingering now. Franky watched from the common room, the wind causing the rain to stream across the window in long streaks as it fell. Beyond the forest and town the ocean appeared wild, much like it had been the evening he and Robin arrived.

Despite the weather, he was feeling specially super. He didn't let what had happened (or what hadn't happened) yesterday get to him; today he was feeling completely rejuvenated. Maybe it was because today was the start of a new week—a particularly super week, judging on the way he felt. The cola was helping as well. He'd managed to get some in town yesterday, and it would probably last him for the rest of their stay. He'd even relit the fireplace with his fresh fire.

Movement from behind proved that he wasn't the only one up so soon after dawn. He turned in time to see Robin slip around the corner, shrouded a dull-coloured dressing gown.

"Super rainy this morning, Robin!" he greeted her, beaming and striking a pose, "We might need to stay indoors unless we rejoin with the others today."

He did not overlook the subtle way her tired eyes lit up upon seeing him, not the way she chuckled afterward. He loved it when she did that. Even more so when he was the cause of it. He loved it when she was happy.

"You're up early," she noted over the hum of the outside drizzle.

"So are you," he responded.

"Not really," she shrugged.

He knew this was probably around the usual time she got up. Robin was a morning person after all. And a night person. How often did she actually sleep anyway?

He remembered nights where he'd had the second watch, and at some point about half way through, she would come and sit beside him. Together, they would silently watch the sun rise. He made sure to return the gesture whenever he could.

"Have you heard from the crew yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," Robin replied, "Either way, they'll reply to us or we'll head back over to them. Whichever comes first."

Franky nodded his agreement, though figured the latter would be more likely.

"It's turned rather cool, hasn't it?" Robin said as she warmed her hands by the fire.

Franky remembered the conversation he'd had the night before with the boat keeper. "Yeah, about that…" he started.

"I wonder what Itzal's up to today," Robin muttered, stretching slightly, "He mentioned to me that there was a large library in town. Presuming we're not rejoining with the others today, I'd like to visit it with him. I needed to speak with him about something…"

"Robin…" Franky began.

Her eyes trailed over to his. Knowing he had something to tell her, she awaited him to continue.

"When I was walking last night, I ended up at the boat house. I had a conversation with Ernest…"

Robin listened as Franky proceeded to tell her all he'd discovered. "So this island is a like cyborg? " she asked once he'd finished.

"Yes," said Franky, "I knew there was something odd about this place. He put some sort of magnets in under the ground so that this island could be invisible to a log pose. I think it would be easier if we went back to Tanium ourselves and met the others there."

"That would make sense then…" Robin muttered.

"So Itzal has told you something about it?"

"Not really," Robin replied, "It's not a conversation that has come up. Although yesterday he did say something about the weather changing, but that's to be expected in the New World."

"Have you noticed anything strange about him?" Franky questioned, "I know you don't really know him well enough to notice anything like that, but he talks a lot more to you than he does to me. Has he said anything… I don't know… suspicious?"

"No," Robin responded, "Is there any reason he should?"

There it was again. Robin was acting odd. She of all people was one to doubt the outward intentions of others and withhold her trust until it had been earned.

"Is everything okay?" Franky asked, only now realising his concern when he spoke it aloud.

Robin tilted her head slightly at his question. "Why wouldn't it be?" she asked.

"You're trusting this man too easily," Franky said, "Even after hearing what Ernest said… you've trusted him from the start. It isn't like you."

"I never said I trusted him," Robin responded, "Having said that, he seems very genuine. Maybe the reason he hasn't mentioned the island's unusual modifications is because it's none of our business to be concerned with. He's said that Ernest could be irrational anyway, even with good intentions."

Franky sighed. This approach wasn't getting him anywhere. "I just keep getting a super uneasy feeling about all this."

"Franky, we have no reason to worry," Robin assured him, "You say that being too trustworthy isn't like me, but worrying isn't like you. Nothing is going to happen, and we'll be back with the others in a couple more days at most. All this will be behind us."

Franky decided to leave the conversation there. He didn't want to argue. Robin was right after all, he was looking too far into it. He felt a little better after talking to her as well.

A knock sounded at the door and a housemaid entered in to let them know that they could come down to breakfast whenever they wished.

Franky glanced at the wall clock. It was barely half past six, an early start for breakfast. It had been around two hours later that he and Robin had gone down the day before, though the breakfast had probably been out for a while already. Some of the breakfast's attendees must have had fairly early starting jobs, he figured.

After another uneventful hour or so, Franky and Robin went to breakfast. There were a different crowd here from yesterday, probably because it was an hour earlier. Itzal accompanied them into town afterwards (each of them had an umbrella this time), animatedly telling Robin of the library as they went. Franky listened in too. He'd probably find something that met his own interests there, by the sound of it. Not that they were talking about something that overly interested him right now; just like yesterday, they were locked in discussion over things that made little sense to Franky. How they found more of that sort of thing to talk about, he could only guess. He certainly wasn't jealous, of course. He didn't need to be after all, Robin had told him yesterday that she wasn't falling for Itzal, and that was that. Getting jealous wouldn't be super anyway.

He walked alongside them, tuning in occasionally when he heard Robin's voice, and even then her words made little to no sense. Franky's mind was not wired that way.

Whilst Robin understood languages that were long dead and forgotten and could decipher events of long-ago with them, Franky understood the languages of things yet to be realised. She could bring the past to life and he could construct glimpses of the future. The ability to decipher and the ability to create. It was little wonder the two of them even as complete strangers had posed the potential for one of the largest threats the World Government had encountered in years.

Itzal's crisp voice intruded on his thoughts as the three entered town, something about some of the books in the library and how they related to his and Robin's conversation. Franky glanced across at the other cyborg, unable to block out Ernest's voice from the night before.

"You're playing a dangerous game by being here."

He could feel it in the ground, the slight vibrations every time his foot trod down. The incubators beneath the ground were working extra hard to keep the island's climate temperate, but there was definitely a strain. How many incubators were there? How deep were they? Was the earth hollow where they sat? Ernest hadn't been clear on that part of the discussion.

The library was fairly large as promised. Itzal lead them along to a section regarding whichever topic he'd been talking about with Robin on the way over, some form of ancient ruin.

Despite not knowing much at all on the topic, Franky watched Robin as she skimmed through one of the texts. "Found anything interesting?" he asked a few moments later, when she had reshelved the book.

"Yes," she responded, "But nothing I didn't already know. There are lots of books here though, I might stay a while."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like," Itzal said, "Although I have some other business in town I must tend to, I'll see you again later."

"Thank you Itzal," Robin said.

Itzal inclined his head and left, slipping around the long bookcase and out the door.

Robin's eyes lingered on him through a window as he crossed the street and disappeared from sight. She then got back to her reading.

Franky took to scanning the library for anything that met his interest, but despite what Ernest had told him last night, there were no books on architecture or any likewise practises. Not even on the building's second level. It seemed to be the only topic not featured. Strange.

Up here on the second level was a large paned window. The rain streaked across it as it had done back at the manor, and instead displayed a clear view of the town's centre. From here, Franky could see the large water feature clearly, though it appeared dull on this dreary day. Directly opposite sat the inn he and Robin had entered shortly after arriving, the place they had met Itzal. The innkeeper had said they were at full vacancy, and apparently other places were as well…

Another odd thing about Ocultoa island. Why was all the accommodation booked? It wasn't like this was a holiday spot, nor were there any events on, not that Franky knew. They were just residents, probably didn't have their own houses here yet. Others may have been just passing through, that had to happen sometimes.

After another few moments of observing the town from the upper floor, Franky returned downstairs to see if Robin had found anything that met her interest. They would be out of here within a few days, after all. Back on the open sea…

Nightfall came again, seemingly faster than it had any day on this island so far. After a rather uneventful dinner, Franky had decided to help with the cleaning up. He had hoped some of the manor's staff members would be of vibrant company, but it turned out they were all no-nonsense types. Luckily, they'd grown sick of him early on and he'd been dismissed.

Now he stood by the window, at a loss of how to fill in his time. This wasn't the Thousand Sunny, where he had all his gadgets and likewise projects, as well as repairs that needed to be done, and young crewmembers who were super easy to entertain. He hadn't made any progress with Robin at all these past days either. He hadn't even told her of his feelings. He glanced over to Robin, lost in the words of her book.

The least he could do now was start a conversation of some sort. But nothing could come to his mind other than idle small talk. Of course there was the subject of Itzal, though Robin had made it obvious enough that morning that that conversation was over. It was nothing anyway, everything was fine. What was there to talk about?

There was silence, save for a crispy rattling whenever Robin turned a page of the novel.

That was it. That's what he could ask about. Turning from the window, he looked across the room to where Robin sat curled up on the sofa, cup of coffee on the table in front of her as her eyes scanned the text on the pages. Just a conversation. That was all. No need for confessing any feelings, just a good conversation that could get them talking for a while. That was all they needed right now.

"So what's it about?" Franky asked.

"What's what about?" Robin returned the question without looking up. She seemed tired.

"The book you've been reading," Franky responded, indicating to the crusty-paged novel, "Last night you said it was one of your favourites."

"Oh this," Robin said with a smile, pausing her reading to look Franky in the eye. "It's an old story, based somewhere far away. It's a little complicated… It's about two people and their lives, and… It's a long story Franky, and I'm not sure if you'd find it interesting."

"No," Franky insisted, "I'm super interested. I'll listen."

"Alright," Robin complied, shifting aside and beckoning for Franky to sit beside her, "Sit down then."

Franky slid into the vacant space, shifting the adjacent coffee table as he did so, and Robin began her retelling.

"As I said, it's about two people… At the start of the story they're enemies. They were each brought up in circumstances which led them to see the other as a threat… but then in an odd twist of fate, they meet each other in person." Her hand gently trailed over the hard cover of the book before she continued, "And what they find is not what either of them were expecting. They discover that neither are the person they had each imagined for so long… that maybe they're not enemies at all. Maybe they're both just victims of the same common enemy, and maybe their relationship could become far different from what either one of them imagined."

Franky listened on, admiring the way Robin looked at the book as she spoke. There was a certain light in her eyes, a familiarity he couldn't place.

"In each other's differences, they find their similarities," Robin continued, her features relaxing into a soft smile, "And they are united by a simple, universal concept…"

"What concept is that?" Franky queried.

"The Red Thread," Robin answered.

Franky noted it was the title of the book, but maybe that was no longer what Robin was referring to.

She removed the red ribbon from her hair to demonstrate, "I think it was what influenced me into buying this the other day," she said, "Rather impulsive of me… but I'm glad I did."

"It looks super on you," Franky commented.

Robin smiled as the ribbon came undone, and she smoothed it out in her upturned hands, her hair tumbling over her shoulders. "It's an ancient ideal better known as the red string of fate."

The ribbon glowed in the firelight. It was a delicate looking thing, Franky now noted, barely half a centimetre wide.

"They say that two people destined to be together will be joined by a single invisible thread, tied around their hand or little finger. The string may have to overcome difficult circumstances," she explained as she wove the ribbon in a certain pattern that somewhat resembled a flower. She held it out to show Franky, before suddenly tugging at either end. "But it will never snap."

Franky expected the thin strip of material to knot, but Robin had tied it in a way that no such thing occurred; rather, the ribbon unravelled to appear completely untarnished.

"The two characters in this story are bound together by the red thread of fate," she explained, "And although there are times they are far apart, physically or otherwise, even through conflicts and struggles, the thread is never broken. It's something that can't be broken, after all."

Franky watched as Robin held out before him, offering him one end of the ribbon. He allowed the smaller hand from within one of his palms to escape, and admired the way the silky material ravelled around his fingers. "Is it always a ribbon?" he asked, "Maybe for some people it's a copper wire, or an electrical cord."

Robin laughed. "Who knows? It's only a concept, I don't think it needs to be…"

Robin's voice seemed to trail off for some reason. For a moment, Franky thought she had simply decided to stop talking. But he soon saw why.

Little had he known that in his absent-minded twirling of the ribbon, Robin had been doing the same. As a result, their hands had met in the middle, tangled together by the strip of material. This could be awkward. But it wasn't. Robin didn't withdraw. Nor did he. Silently, their fingers—now delicately woven over and under by the ribbon—intertwined. Their eyes met and exchanged a silent mutual understanding. Franky watched those beautiful eyes, now bearing deep into his own.

She was looking at him in a similar way to how she had been looking at the book—now seemingly forgotten on the coffee table beside them—mere moments ago. But there was something else there in her eyes as well. Something akin to the way she looked at an old text when she had just managed to decipher something she'd been working on for hours, and the realisation of how it all played into the work as a whole, as well as the significance it could have posed to the original writers. So this was what it was like to be on the receiving end of her wonder.

At this proximity, he could see the highlights of her eyes that would catch in the sunshine. They danced in the glowing embers of the fireplace, specks of promising light against a mysterious, dark backdrop. As well as his own eyes, Franky could see numerous other things reflected deep within these ones.

These eyes had seen Hell. They'd experienced so much hurt and pain on their years, to a point where they could understand that which was reflected in his own past. As such, there was an honest truth. There was nothing Franky could hide from this gaze; Robin could see him through to his core. All he had ever been was reflected right here, in this simple line of sight.

Amongst all the darkness, there was life reflected in those eyes as well. A rekindled spirit of hope, eyes of someone who had endured relentlessly and then come out on the other side. They were like the sky after the rain, and Franky found himself mesmerised, unable to look away.

They were coming nearer. She was edging in on him as though to observe him in closer quarters, her free hand finding its way to his chest.

Franky was edging in closer as well, not taking his eyes off hers, even for a moment. They were super close now. What could happen from here? Would this be it?

As though catching herself out on their near-intimate position, Robin suddenly pulled back. She cleared her throat, quickly letting go of Franky's hand and untangling the ribbon. "It's late," she said, as though she'd been asked something that warranted explanation. She took the ribbon and placing it inside the cover of the novel.

Franky, slightly taken aback by the suddenness of her withdrawal, quickly settled back into the sofa, observing the hand that had so recently been joined with hers, before sealing it away. "What happens at the end of the story?" he asked, indicating to the book, now back in her hands, "Do they end up happy?"

"That's not something I can answer," Robin responded as she stood, "You'll have to find that out on your own."

Sometimes she was so cryptic. Though, Franky figured, it was probably just her way of telling him to read the book himself.

She was already halfway across the room when she turned to address him a last time. "Franky?"

He looked over, their eyes meeting again, though only briefly.

"See you tomorrow," with a smile, she disappeared around the corner and up the hallway toward her quarters.

That was potentially really cheesy and the symbolism couldn't get any more obvious, right? I'm not used to writing this sort of thing, so some feedback would be great :) Fairly short chapter, because it couldn't be a part of the last one and had to end where it did. That's the first part of the story complete, major plot advances on he way very soon. Just over half left I think, but I plan on finishing the typing of this by the end of Summer (which is Winter for most of you).

Thanks (: