Mass x Acceleration
By Dixxy Mouri
Chapter Three: Normal
Gala wasn't able to completely suppress their symptoms, but he gave them some herbal teas that helped dull their nausea to the point where they were able to keep down the food they were given. They were a little disappointed when their diet changed to milder foods, but the doctor promised them both he would buy them the most decadent food on the island when their stomachs were able to handle it for a whole week.
And the mild foods Gala prescribed weren't terrible – mostly things like rice and some overcooked vegetables, but it was still better than the slop Tesla gave them. If they wanted seconds they could have it, and the tea was surprisingly sweet. Most of all, what they were eating and drinking were things they could recognize as real food.
The doctor also gave them two small tubs of lotion. One was supposed to help reduce the appearance of the scars on the backs of their necks, which they applied to each other to make sure they got everything. The other was regular lotion, since their skin was dry and flaky, and even though the young man wasn't fond of the floral smell, it made them both feel a little better.
They still felt sick, but little by little things were starting to get better.
Except for their names.
Without knowing what their names were, Gala wasn't sure how to remove the psychological block the scientist had laid. For the time being, they were stuck without names. Mac and Gala tried to find a good middle ground with "young lady" and "young man" (they refused to use the numbers), which was better than the numbers, but still not the names they so desperately wanted to hear.
The names they so desperately wanted to say.
Mac let them open the curtains in their room (the man was surprised they even felt they had to ask), and for the first time in a long time they saw the light of day. The mayor explained their island had four varied seasons, a rarity on the Grand Line, but he'd heard of islands having seasons that changed by the week. Currently, it was winter and there wasn't much to see but the snow, but they could see trees and a town. Sometimes there would be smoke coming from the town, and it was obvious someone was cooking or baking or trying to stay warm.
It was a normal island with a normal town.
Gala did fill them in on a couple of things. First, he explained that he was going to keep their torturer's identity under wraps for the time being – even Mac wasn't going to be told who had been tormenting them. "I'm going to let the two of you decide when you want to talk about and it with whom you want to talk to," he said kindly.
There was one other thing he mentioned. "I don't want to stop you from getting fresh air – I'm going to strongly suggest getting it, actually, but for now I think for now the trips should be short and close by. It's winter here now and prolonged exposure to the cold probably isn't the best for you. Once you've gotten better and the weather gets a little warmer, run around the island to your hearts' desires."
The young man and the young lady nodded. It sounded reasonable enough.
The second day they were conscious the young man and the young lady explored the mayor's house a little more in depth. Mostly this was limited to the top floor. They knew where the bathroom was already (directly across from their guest room and next to Mac's master bedroom), there were other things to be found on the second floor as well.
Most notably, a library.
It wasn't an enormous room or anything – maybe the size of a large bedroom, but the walls were floor to ceiling book shelves with a desk by the window and two big chairs and a loveseat to sit and read in. The young woman went to get the mayor's permission to explore the library which, once again, the mayor was surprised they felt the need to ask.
"Feel free," he said. He smiled at the delight that had lit up on her face.
"I forgot what a book felt like," said the young man. He was holding a tome filled with adventure stories. He closed his eyes and inhaled. "It smells like dust and old paper and leather. It feels heavy." He started flipping through the pages. "Illustrations of brave men and women battling Sea Kings and monsters, stories about discovering legends and romance . . . I didn't read enough."
The young lady smiled. Of course he was going to enjoy a book about finding hidden legends. She herself had picked up a book on stylistic cartography ("Calligraphy for Cartographers: Making Maps Lovely and Legible") and realized that no matter how much the scientists had tried to strip them of everything that made them who they were, there were two things they hadn't even been able to touch.
The young man was still going to find the All Blue.
The young lady was still going to draw a map of the world.
And they were going to accompany their captain to the One Piece.
"No. Freaking. Way."
The young lady looked up at her companion, who was staring wide eyed at one of Mac's bookshelves. He had a look of shock and disbelief on his face, and at first she was afraid of what he'd seen. Then she saw the shock turn into delight as his face lit up and his lips curled into a grin as he pulled a fairly new looking book from the shelf. "What is it?"
"A brand new Imaki Imahara collection!" he said. He flipped to the first page, looking on eagerly. "It came out ten months ago! It's all new material!" He showed the cover to her, and the young woman clapped happily. "New material! I thought he retired! But no! New stuff! And it's a thick volume!"
"There's gotta be at least a few hundred pages in there," she said, nearly drooling at the thought. The young man sat down on the loveseat and padded the spot next to him. The young woman scrambled over with the blanket she'd dragged from the guest room and wrapped it around their shoulders. Once they were settled and warm, they started to read aloud to each other, taking turns with each poem.
Mac stopped by to check on his patients, and saw they were currently enthralled in a book of poetry that had come in on a trade ship a little while back. The mayor wasn't much of a poetry fan, but picked the collection up on a whim, thinking that maybe he should be reading more poetry to better his cultural understanding. That was important when you were a mayor, right?
Of course he never got around to it. Cobbler was still a puppy at the time, and it was during the peak of their big harvest season – he was busy making sure the harvest festival was organized and the apple pickers were being cared for, all on top of his normal duties as the mayor of the island. He'd completely forgotten about the book.
But seeing the young man and young woman so clearly engaged by the tome, he couldn't help but smile. They didn't seem to notice him, but they were smiling at each other and exchanging happier tones and words as they stayed curled up on the loveseat, reading aloud to each other. He'd never seen them really smile before then, and it made him feel good to see it happen – even if it wasn't with him, they were capable of smiling now.
I guess they're going to get more joy out of that than I ever will, he thought to himself. But for now, I think it's better to leave them alone for a little bit. I don't want to risk ruining this moment for them. Lingering just a moment longer, Mac backed out of his library, feeling for the first time that maybe things were going to work out for them.
By the time the young man and the young woman got to the thirtieth page of the collection they decided to take a break, both to save their voices and to savor the newness of the poems. "Definitely not his best work but not bad at all," said the young woman, taking a sip of her tea. "But it was definitely a big improvement over his last collection."
"Tell me about it – I didn't even want to believe he was the one that wrote it. I still don't, actually," he said. "I think his publisher was giving him a tough time and telling him what to write, so I think if that's true it explains the collection. It does seem like he's changed publishers – maybe the whole 'retirement' thing was just a way to get his old publisher out of the picture while he went looking for a new one."
"Possible, but I-"
"THERE you are! We found you!"
The young man and the young woman paused to see that the library had been invaded by two small children – identical twin girls with curly brown hair – each carrying an armload of paper. Neither child could have been older than three. One of them, dressed in pale blue, was leading her sister, dressed in purple. The pale blue one dropped her stack of paper on the coffee table by the love seat, her sister shuffling behind her to gently lay her pile next to her sisters.
"Okay, all better now!" said the one in pale blue, throwing her arms up. "Ta da!"
The one in purple smiled and hid behind her sister.
The young man and the young woman looked at the paper on the coffee table. They were drawings. There were dozens of crayon drawings of cats and butterflies and hearts and birds and stick figures and boats and trees and flowers and too many things that could have been just about anything. They looked up at the artists, who were smiling and antsy as they waited for the reviews.
"Are these for us?" asked the young man.
"Uh huh! All better now!" said the pale blue one.
"Is the yucky gone?" her sister asked quietly.
Before either of the floored patients could respond they heard a panicked woman's cries from downstairs. "Wendy! Sundae! WENDY! SUNDAE! WHERE ARE YOU! MY BABIES!" The girls looked at each other and the one in blue went onto into the hallway, planted her feet firmly on the hardwood floor, and bellowed a response.
"MOMMY! UPSTAIRS!"
The women quieted, but they could hear someone thundering up the stairs in anger as the pale blue twin sauntered back into the room. Moments later, a woman with straight, fiery red hair filled the door frame. "I thought I told the two of you to stay with me!" she scolded. "This isn't your house and there are sick people here – you can't just run around as you please!"
The ringleader of the sisters disagreed and tried to argue her point with her mother. "Mommy, it's okay, they're gonna be fine!" the one in pale blue said. She gestured to the young man and the young woman, a firm look of resolve on her face. "See? They got the pictures! Now they're gonna be all better!"
Their mother looked up, a look of shock and horror on her face. "I am so, so sorry about this!" she said. She stepped into the room and gathered up her children, who complained once they were in their mother's arms. "You two must need your rest and I'm so sorry they didn't . . . well, I mean, they're only two and a half, they don't know any better."
"No, it's all right," said the young woman, who was looking at the drawings. They were simple drawings typical of something a toddler would do, but it was obvious these drawings – each and every one of them – was hand crafted especially for them. "This was really nice, actually." She looked at the young girls and smiled warmly. "Thank you very much for the pictures. No one's given us a present in a very long time."
The girls giggled and looked at their mother in triumph. The woman sighed, nodding her head. "All right, these little ones win this battle, but both of you need to stop wandering away from me when I tell you to sit still for five minutes! I had to talk to Mr. Mayor about something important and it's not nice to make me worry like that!"
"We're sorry, Mommy," they said in unison, hugging their mother.
The mother looked frustrated and tired, but turned her attention back to the mayor's patients. "Let me pawn these two off to Mac for a little bit – I'd like to speak with the two of you as well, actually." She sighed. "This one here with the big mouth is Wendy, and Sundae is my quiet one. You can call me Ria, sugahs."
Once the twins were placed in Mac's care ("Let's play ballerina, Mr. Mayor!" ". . . I'm sorry I don't think I know how to play that game."), Ria more properly introduced herself and her reasons for the visit. She was a seamstress and owned her own clothing shop, where she sold a little bit of everything, including services such as custom tailoring and alterations. Gala and Mac had brought her in to get them a few changes of clothing and jackets so they could go outside.
"Are you sure you can just make us new clothes?" asked the young woman.
Ria clucked her tongue. She'd been taking the young man's measurements when the question had come up. "It's not a problem, sugah. You have nothing right now, so we can figure out payment or not payment or whatever later, I don't give a shit. I can spare a few shirts and pants and skirts no problem." The young woman still looked a little nervous. Ria shook her head. "It's fine. Act of goodwill to draw in good publicity for my business. A lesson to pass onto my girls. It might make me feel good about myself without a bottle of wine or a shirtless, well sculpted piece of man meat who smells like sea salt and cedar. Because it's Tuesday. I don't need a reason, sugah."
The flippant tone took both drifters by surprise. Everything with the scientists had been so cold and calculating, and Mac and Gala had been gentle and patient with them. Ria was . . . not those things. The young woman was the first to try and compose herself. "Well, um, whatever your reasons, thank you so much."
Ria stepped away from the young man to give her a hug. "You're welcome, sugah. Think nothing of it. And now that I have your measurements let's talk about what you two want. Let's say three pairs of pants and three tops to each of you, plus the jackets. If you need any underwear I can do that, too, so I'm going to need to know if he likes boxers or briefs and I'm going to need your preference on panties as well – are you more of a cotton, a silk, or a lace?"
Both drifters stared at Ria in shock. "You want to-"
"Look. If I'm going to do this I'm making sure you have everything. If he likes cotton briefs then a pair of silk boxers isn't going to do him any good. If you like thongs and pushup bras then cotton granny panties and saggy wire-free cups are going to make you uncomfortable. And I don't want the two of you walking around like this," Ria stopped ranting for a second to demonstrate what she meant by walking awkwardly with an uncomfortable expression on her face.
The young man and young woman had matching expressions of bewilderment.
Ria clucked her tongue. "Too much?"
The young woman took a moment to think, then shook her head. "Not at all," she said. She smiled and nodded her head. "Thank you." The young man looked at her oddly, and she just shook her head – she'd tell him later. It was okay if he didn't get it right away. They were used to being treated so differently that this felt new and different. It had been so long since anyone treated them like there wasn't anything wrong with them.
The rest of the visit went smoothly. Clothing preferences were given (both wanted turtlenecks to hide the numbers on their necks) and Ria continued to chat away while the young man excused himself to use the restroom. "There's a lot we need to show you on the island. There are some beautiful nature trails in the wooded areas of the island, and the public orchards are a sight to see. There are little shops and what not around town, too. We'll get you well acquainted soon enough, sugah."
The young woman thought about this. Ria seemed to think they were going to be on the island for a while – was that really how it was all going to play out? She missed their captain and the others so much. She knew the young man did, too. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that wasn't going to be in the cards – at least, not anytime soon.
Chief among the reasons was they didn't know where Luffy was, and he sure as hell didn't know where they were now – he was still probably chasing down that man. Even if somehow he knew where they were, or they knew where he was, it didn't matter – they weren't in any shape to leave with him and the others.
Yeah. They would be on that island for a while.
She looked at her hands. They were thin and bony, and her skin was dry and cracking – the hands of an old woman, not the hands of a young woman who was still in her teens. She clenched her eyes shut, frustrated by what she saw and how she felt. She used to be pretty. She used to be strong and confident and-
"Hey, hey, stop that." The young woman looked up to see Ria sternly looking at her.
"Stop what?"
"You were looking at your hands funny and you zoned out a little. Take a deep breath – we're going get you both nursed back to health and show you a good time," said Ria. She smiled. "You have pretty eyes, sugah. And a pretty face, too. So when you get back in fighting shape you and I are going to doll ourselves up one night and go get some of the local men riled up so they buy us drinks."
"I don't think Gala wants us drinking for a while," said the young woman. She couldn't help but notice the doctor was favoring herbals teas and vitamins to heal them and was staying away from more modern drugs, probably afraid of what would and wouldn't react to whatever was still coursing through their system. She was going to need to ask him about that sometime soon.
"Okay, wine for me, club soda for you, and disappoint for them," said Ria, leaning back in her seat. "I mean, most of the men don't want anything to do with me in that way because of the girls – assholes – and you've already got a boyfriend so-"
The young woman held up her hand. "He's not my boyfriend – we're JUST friends," she said.
Ria looked at her oddly. "Really? With the way the two of you hang off each other-"
"No, it's not like that," she said. "We're just really close, but it's completely platonic." She swallowed, hoping she was phrasing things right. "We were friends before . . . it . . . happened, but we got really close while . . . it . . . was going on. And that's how we got to where we are now. But I'm not his girlfriend."
Ria closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pryed." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Damn it, I'm being an insensitive bitch – you two went through God knows what kind of hell and here I am chatting about you hitting on men and having boyfriends or what now and I'm sure that's the farthest thing from you mind."
"No, no, it's fine, I'm okay with this talk!" said the young woman, making sure she was smiling. "It's been a long time since anyone but my friend has just talked to me like I'm a normal person. You're so relaxed and casual – you're just being yourself around us. Mac and Gala are kind of treating us like we're about to break but you're just . . . you don't have any defenses or walls or masks up and I like that. It's refreshing."
"You sure?"
"Positive," said the young woman. "That's why I thanked you before."
"Well then you're welcome, sugah."
Author's Notes
So about Ria.
Ria is largely based on and in some ways is the same "person" as Ria Carmichael, an original character/Mary Sue from my days as a Ronin Warriors fanfic writer – she lacks a filter (unless she's around her children). Although it's true a lot of this didn't come out in the prologue, there wasn't anything there where it would have been appropriate story wise.
Braeburn and the beginning of the PLOT (kind of? What I'm referring to hasn't changed but it's more of a "getting the ball rolling" thing than the plot proper) next chapter.
-Dixxy