"Damn that Asim..."
A young boy with curly ginger hair climbed down to the hull of an aged caravel, yawning, his bright blue eyes barely staying open. He cursed his shipmate under his nose, trudging among dozens of huge crates, searching for the one filled with booze. He suddenly stopped, swallowed a lump in his throat, and walked a couple of steps back. His eyebrows went up. He reached for his weapon on the back, only to find it missing.
In front of him sat a little girl, an open book in her arms. The first thing the boy noticed were her bloodshot eyes and the dark bags under them; it seemed like she neglected a proper night's sleep for several days now. Her hair was disheveled, her lips were parched, fish skin and bones were scattered around her, and even from a distance he could smell the need for a thorough shower. Goosebumps ran down his back as the girl's eyes landed on his face. They were filled with chilling hatred.
"W-what are you doing here, you s-stupid girl?!" he took a step back.
The girl got up. She stared the boy down for some time, as if contemplating something. Then simply rushed past him, a book at her chest.
"H-hey!" he grabbed her hand, "I asked you–"
The book fell down, caught by a couple of limbs that appeared from the floor. In that moment, the base of her palm connected with the boy's jaw, skilfully shutting his brain off. He fell down, lying motionless. The girl proceeded to the deck.
She was met with maddening sunlight and intense wind. Spirited sea played below as she crossed her self-made bridge and reached the jetty; an empty, winding street rested in front of her, its inhabitants still recovering from the perpetual all-nighters.
Abruptly, a head popped up from the water.
"Good morning, Robin," said Sharley, "How was your night?"
Robin did not answer, strolling towards the beach. The mermaid followed.
"Oh, you managed to remove the collar? Great! That means we can leave this place now, right?"
"No."
Disappointment painted Sharley's adorable face. "Why not...?"
"I want more books."
"Books? I love books! But..." she fell silent, unsure of what to say next, "I... I understand... Then I'll keep waiting here, alright? Please, hurry– I mean, be careful, Robin," her head disappeared underwater.
Robin continued–
"Ah, and, please, take some rest, you look very, very tired... Alright?"
Left without an answer, she was gone once more.
Robin reached the familiar buildings and continued her walk down the street, irked by the nagging seagulls above and tiresome sand below, a tingle of excitement dancing inside her stomach at the prospect of finding more fascinating literature.
"Huh?"
Suddenly, a man she had seen yesterday left the house, a hand in his pants. He stood atop the stairs, staring at Robin and scratching his groin.
"A brat?" he raised an eyebrow, "C'mere, kid," he ordered, climbing down lazily, a pistol dangling from his belt.
The tingle disappeared. Fear took residence in Robin's heart. She could feel the unfiltered malice escape the man, surround him, oozed from every cell of his body. She could see the complete absence of care and kindness in his eyes. There was only apathy and bloodlust. He was a bandit. As atrocious as they all were.
Before she knew it, he was already standing next to her, reeking of booze and shit. His first action was to lift up her dress. Then put a hand inside her–
The fear disappeared. Anger spread around Robin's body. She brought her hands together, and two arms took shape from the man's nape, reaching for his eyeballs, pressing with all the strength she could–
Yet the man managed to intercept them, as startled as he was. Pissed off, he tightened his grip, breaking every bone in the slender hands, enjoying the satisfying sound.
"What the fuck was that?" he asked.
Those would be his last words.
A limb grew from his leg, snatching the gun and passing it to an arm that appeared from his upper back. The man could feel a cold muzzle touch the back of his head. This time he had no time to react. He was shot. Dead.
As the burly body fell to the ground, Robin looked around, waiting for someone to come out and check on the loud noise. Yet nothing of that sort happened. Nobody cared.
She walked around the corpse and climbed the stairs, going inside the man's house. A foul smell assaulted her nose upon entrance. There appeared another body, brutally beaten and lifeless. It was a naked woman with a red mark on her back. Robin knew it very well—she herself had one—the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon, the brand mark of a slave.
Robin wished to dedicate some time to pity and grievance, alas her heart had grown accustomed to such unpleasant sights, so she began rummaging around the building in search of food. And managed to find none. Yet she kept searching, in hopes of finding even the thinnest collection of pages, containing the shortest story. She was met only with disappointment.
The girl left, walking up to another house. Five men slept inside, snoring loudly. She carefully opened the door.
The annoying squeaking of the hinges woke one person up, and as he reluctantly opened his blurry yes, he saw a child stand in the doorframe, illuminated by divine light. He thought she was an angel, but the child's expression was, for some reason, so exceptionally grim, that he deemed her an imp. And he was very scared of subjects of Devil.
"Oi, wake up, mate! It's a fuckin' Devi–"
His words turned into an unintelligible gurgle. In a single instance, litres upon litres of blood poured on the wooden floor, leaking from five bodies of deceased men. Their throats were cut open. Five kitchen knifes lied next to each of them, once smeared with fish and dog's blood, now – with human's.
Robin grabbed the last sausage from the table, finishing it right away, and drank it down with the leftover beer.
Satisfied, she left and climbed down the stairs, watching a large number of ships in the distance approach the central island and conduct all kinds of exchange and trade. She took a deep breath of fresh air and proceeded further, wobbling lightly.
As if trying to fit in with the overall gloom of the Archipelago, the sky armed itself with the darkest clouds in its arsenal, allowing only the brightest of rays to pass through. The wind turned harsher too, rousing the malleable waves.
The day went on, and the amount of people walking back and forth increased. Robin crossed several long bridges, passed through multiple dirty alleyways, and as she got closer to the center, she became part of a large crowd, which played to her advantage, as she happened to be skilled in blending in.
The main attraction of Brittle Star Archipelago appeared to be the open auction that took place every single day at a giant square on the central island. Thundering cheering and heated arguments seemed to shake the ground and cause vibrations in the air, while constant gunshots added more thrill to the event.
Robin squeezed through hundreds of musty criminals and soon emerged on an almost empty street, where many shops and inns were built. She entered third building to her right, where giant letters above the entrance formed a word 'ANTIQUE'.
The racket disappeared, and reassuring silence took the reins here.
Opposite the front door, in front of a large, round window, sat an old, burly man at an intricate table, wearing a pair of aesthetic glasses and smoking a thick cigar. His grey eyes widened a little and an attractive smile appeared on his face as he noticed Robin set foot inside uneasily.
"Welcome, welcome," he said soothingly, putting out the cigar and placing the papers he was reading to the side.
Robin made a small nod for a greeting.
The man got up. He had perfectly trimmed silver hair and wore a spotless white suit. His expensive shoes left pleasant footsteps on the shining floor as he walked towards Robin.
"Could this young lady have a burning interest in history?" he stood beside her as they both faced a filled with artifacts shelf.
Robin took a quick step away from the man.
"Have you heard of a kingdom named Dressrosa?" the man gestured towards a chipped helmet, "There is a colosseum located there, and this piece of armor belonged to a famous gladiator. It is said that he fought ten thousand battles, and emerged victorious without a single scratch after each one. Hard to believe, right?" he chuckled.
Deep fascination set ablaze inside Robin's eyes.
"And this here," the man gestured lower, "A sword of a noble samurai of Wano country. The mighty warriors are known for being able to cut through anything, even fire. Incredible, is it not?"
Robin wiped her sweaty hands off of her dusty dress, breathing intensely.
"How about this over here?" he guided her further to the left, "This is a wine jar from the Kingdom of Alabasta. Here, at the bottom, it is written in a now forgotten language: 'A humble gift for–'"
"'...Princess Nefertari D. Lili...'" finished Robin.
The man displayed a wide, genuine smile. Robin gasped, having realized her blunder.
"Nico Robin, right?"
She brought her hands together, forming wings.
"My name is Vasily Victorovich Bonba," he spoke calmly, placing a finger on the cracked jar, "And I believe we have something in common – we both are an eyesore to the World Government."
Robin frowned, but lowered her arms just slightly.
"I have something special for you, Robin."
Vasily returned to his desk and fetched a key. He approached a cabinet that stood opposite the shelf and slowly opened it. Inside, dozens of books rested in rows, each with their own labels. One of those labels read 'FISH-MAN ISLAND', another 'ELBAF', and another 'OHARA'.
Robin felt as if she was about to choke. Vasily threw her a curios glance, notting her peculiar reaction.
"It cost a lot to get my hands on it," Vasily took the book from Ohara, "Such a dangerous thing," he opened it, "And so precious," he flipped through pages, "But I am willing to part ways with it, even if reluctantly," he closed it and put under his arm, "For a small favor, of course," he finally faced Robin, looking her in the eyes.
"W-What favor...?" she gulped.
"You see, Robin, I am a captain of a tiny crew that goes by the name 'Antique Pirates.' Currently, in order to set sail and travel the seas, we are actively looking for new crew members. Learning history and finding treasure is, of course, among our many other goals. Would you like to become a part of us, Robin? Your reward for a successful expedition will be this very book."
Robin could not take her eyes away from it. She nodded.
"Great, great," he chuckled, "We will depart tomorrow morning, is that alright with you?"
She nodded again.
"Very good!" he clapped his hands, "Then how about you meet up with the crew? They all are very nice people."
Robin hesitated. But only for a moment. She nodded once more.
"Out youngest, Nora, should be here soon. Meet him and he will explain everything," he said and returned to the table, lighting up another cigar, "See you tomorrow, Robin," he smiled.
Robin turned around and hurriedly left outside. But before that, she stopped. And turned again. She stood there, with her back to the door, for some time, looking down. She took a deep breath. Her arms began rising slowly. They formed bird wings.
Next instance, ten—no, twenty—arms appeared around Vasily. They all aimed for his weakest points – his throat, eyes, groin. Yet before they could connect, he disappeared. Only white smoke remained in his place. Then the smoke began moving. It rose up to the ceiling and crossed the room in a blink of an eye.
Vasily stood behind the girl. She felt him put his large hand on her head. She felt him pat her.
"No need to worry, Robin, I will keep my promise."
Robin could feel him form his usual wide smile, and a shudder ran through her body as the man disappeared again. Shortly after, her tiny frame left outside too. Her crazed heart was enough proof of just how terrified she was.
"I-it's you, stupid girl!"
A loud, drenched in sweat boy stood outside, dressed in a striped t-shirt and beige shorts, pointing his index finger at Robin. She gave him a death stare in response.
"W-what? I'm not scared this time, I've got this," he indicated to his back with his thumb.
A large weapon peeked from behind his shoulders. As the boy turned around proudly, Robin bore witness to a crossbow, its size almost half his body, with each bolt being as thick as his forearm.
"Scared, huh?" he grinned, "Well, you should– Hey! Listen to me!"
Having figured out the situation, Robin wasted no time going back to the ship.
"You better stop, stupid!" he yelled, "Or you'll end up with a hole in your chest!"
Robin halted, frowning. As she looked back, a large crossbow was pointed at her.
"I'll ask again," he took aim, "Are you scared?"
She refused to entertain his childishness or show weakness and continued down the street.
"Mission: send the Devil back to Hell – start!" Nora assumed a shooting stance, spreading his legs wide, and lowered the weapon to his hips, "One..." he began the countdown, "Two..." he licked his lips, "Three!"
Suddenly, something appeared from the dusty ground beneath, right between his legs. Before he could identify the object, a tiny fist flew upwards at high speed, connecting with his groin.
Agonizing whimpering reached Robin's ears. She paid it no heed, strolling forward, a tiny smile dancing on her lips.
In time she found herself back at the jetty, an outdated caravel swaying in front of her, painted pretty orange by the setting Sun. The translucent Moon in the sky reminded of the approaching night, and incessant laughter and shouting from the shore – of incoming festivities.
As Robin got up on the deck, she noticed a tall, skinny man sit with his back against a captain's cabin wall. He wore a simple white shirt, a brown belt and black pants. He had short, brown hair and an unkempt stubble grew on his face. He stared at Robin from under his thick eyebrows, his breathing unnaturally heavy.
"It's you again...?" he asked, speaking abnormally slowly, "You chose the wrong ship to sleep in, girl..."
She decided not to engage in the conversation, climbing down to the hu–
"I locked the hatch..." he closed his deep set silver eyes tightly, as if in a lot of pain, "Nora is too stupid to do that much..."
"Open it," asked Robin, "Please," she added.
"Who are you, girl...?"
"A... A part of the crew."
"Is thag so...?" he studied her skinny frame, "Whatever..." he reached inside his pocket and tossed Robin a set of keys, "Bring me a bottle, will you...?"
Robin obliged, feeling somehow indebted. As she emerged back on the deck, the loud boy was already there.
"Now I've got no choice but to hunt you down!" said Nora, pointing his crossbow at Robin, "You hurt my pride, you De–"
"Nora!"
Robin shuddered and almost dropped the bottle. The man's yell was so loud and frightening, she ended up freezing in place for a time, her insides twisting with fear.
"A-Asim... I... She..." tears welled up in Nora's eyes.
"Nora..."
"S-sir!"
"Shut the fuck up..." his eyelids closed.
"Yes, sir!"
"And pass me the bottle already, girl..."
Robin followed the order and both kids watched him gulp it down in silence.
The man burped, "Where's Flower...?" he asked the boy.
"S-she'll be here tomorrow morning, sir."
"Good..." he sighed, "And you, girl..." his eyes jumped to Robin, "Go take a nap or something..."
Robin nodded and hastily disappeared below the deck.
"W-what should I do, sir?"
A muffled conversation reached her ears.
"Get down to scrubbing the floor..."
"Yes, sir!"
"And shut your mouth already..."
"Sir!"