Chapter 1: What Happened At the Tavern?
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The cause of events is ever in the great; Men are but actors, generous or mean, according as the scene is set for them.
'The Conspiracy of Byron', William Shakespeare
Aurora steps onto the pier as her dinghy floats close to the harbor, the small vessel sinking into the sea as the water weighs it down to the ocean floor. The group of fishermen on the dock stare at her in befuddlement, taken aback by the spectacle, especially so early in the morning.
The young woman gives them a disarmingly polite smile and approaches the nearest fisherman. "Can you point me to the nearest inn?" She asks, adjusting the knapsack more comfortably on her shoulders.
The man blinks at her, still in shock over the events that had just transpired. She waits patiently for him to regain his bearings. He shakes himself from his stupor, finding his words. "You can try the Seafoam Tavern. Coralie should have some rooms available," he finally says, pointing in the direction of said inn. "Just go down the main street there, and you'll eventually see a big green sign on your left."
She nods in thanks and gives the rest of the fishermen a wave over her shoulder. Aurora does as the fisherman had suggested, walking leisurely down the main street, ignoring the strange stares of the early morning passersby. She keeps her shoulders relaxed and wears a calm, friendly smile on her face to avoid appearing unfriendly to the villagers. She may have a bounty on her head, but she doesn't want to look like she has a bounty on said head.
Aurora comes upon a green sign on her left and enters the Seafoam Tavern, the bell above jingling. There's an older man behind the counter who looks up from his stocking to see who had just come through the door.
"Good mornin'," Aurora croons, approaching the man. "I was wondering if you had any vacancies."
The man focuses his attention on her and answers, "Yes, we have five rooms open. Two singles, and three doubles."
"A single will do—how much?"
"Two hundred and fifty beri, a night."
Cheap. Aurora doesn't hesitate as she pulls out her money pouch, counts her beri, and passes it to the man. In return, he hands her a key and points to the stairs leading to the second floor where the rooms are located. He advises her not to go any further; it only leads to the roof, and guests are not allowed on the roof.
She does as she's told and proceeds to her room, locking the door behind her. The redhead walks over to the single twin bed, setting her knapsack and claymore down onto the mattress. She raises her arms above her head, stretching and pulling at the muscles in her shoulders and back. They pop, and she drops her arms, her body sinking into the mattress below.
The mattress is firmer than she would like, but it's better than sleeping cramped in a dinghy.
Aurora closes her eyes, the movement of the ocean still lingering in her bones — even on land, the rhythm of the waves never cease. She allows herself to relax against the puffy comforter. It's not long before she drifts off to sleep.
Aurora awakens a few hours later, refreshed and hungry. There are more people in the tavern part of the inn now, eating, and some are having their first drink of the day. The redhead glances at the clock above the bar.
1:35. She raises a brow.
She continues to the first floor and takes a seat at the bar's very end. The bartender notices her and approaches.
"What'll you have?" The man asks, setting a lunch menu in front of her.
She takes a moment to look before deciding. "Water with ice, no lemon. Steak, medium rare, with steamed broccoli and mashed potatoes, extra gravy."
The man doesn't need to write it down. He takes the menu back and goes to the kitchen to relay her order. The redhead intertwines her fingers and rests her chin against them, her eyes closing. Aurora reaches out with her senses, mentally noting all the people in the Seafoam Tavern. She listens to their conversations idly, the sound of laughter in the kitchen as the chefs chat with each other. She can hear the occupants' heartbeats, the soft inhale and exhale of their lungs, their stomachs gurgling.
She hears the clinking of ice in a glass and the approaching footsteps of the bartender. She opens her eyes as he sets her water in front of her. She sips it as he leaves. She glances over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening, a hush falling upon the tavern.
Aurora looks away, uninterested in the colorfully clad crowd. The bartender returns once again with her food, and she starts in on her steak as the bartender greets the newcomers. Someone sits beside her, but she doesn't spare them a glance, concentrating on her plate instead.
"What can I do for you all?"
"Your best rum for me and my crew will do," comes the scratchy voice of the newcomer.
Blue hair and a bright, round red nose catch Aurora's attention from the corner of her eye, but she continues to eat. She can feel the rest of his crew entering the tavern, making themselves comfortable in remaining seats and recently emptied seats, as customers who had been enjoying their lunch had fled as soon as they saw the pirates.
The bartender complies with their request and goes to the back to retrieve the pirates' order.
The blue-haired man fixes his dark eyes on Aurora, his gaze harsh as he regards her. "That hair…" he mutters sneeringly, "reminds me of someone I know."
She raises a brow at his statement as she swallows her food. She knows red hair is rare, especially in these parts, but surely she isn't the only one this pirate has come across with the same red hair. She washes down her food with her water, catching an ice cube between her teeth.
The pirate continues to stare at her, taking in the claymore strapped to her back and the knives around her waist. Aurora also observes more of his appearance, her eyes roving over the crossbones on his face, his painted red lips, and his garish clothes. He leans closer to her face, and she lets him.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Look, mom, his nose is like a clown horn! Honk honk!"
The tavern falls into a deadly silence as the clown-clad pirate slowly turns to glare at the young boy, who is now clutched tightly in his mother's arms.
"What did you say about my nose, boy?"
Insecure. Aurora finishes her potatoes and broccoli quickly.
The clown rises from his seat and approaches the mother and son duo, his eyes trained on the boy.
The mother stammers out an apology on her son's behalf. "I-I'm s-so sorry, s-sir. He's only f-five, h-he doesn't unders-stand—"
"He's old enough to learn!"
Aurora stands in front of the clown now, blocking the fist aimed for the boy and his mother. "Pick on someone your own size," she says coolly, shoving the man in the chest and sending him back into the bar. She glances over her shoulder at the mother and son, telling them, "I suggest you leave, lady."
The redhead unsheathes her karambits, twirling them in her grasp as the mother flees from the tavern, her son tucked against her chest. The other pirates that had been loitering around stand in shock at the display, finding it unbelievable that Aurora had just attacked their captain.
The man in question straightens and glowers at the redhead. Aurora continues to twirl her karambits in response.
"You're gonna regret that, girl."
The clown lunges forward with a sword of his own, much larger than her curved blades, but she blocks him. Aurora holds against his blade with her karambits, criss-crossing them to relieve the weight bearing down. She aims a quick kick to his chest, sending him skidding into the wall adjacent to them. She wastes no time running out of the tavern and into the streets. She turns just in time as the clown swipes at her head.
She ducks under his arm and slices through his torso, her karambits sharp and steady as he falls apart in two. Aurora stands straight, tilting her head — poppopop goes her neck. The clown's crew had migrated outside to view the fight, and now they were filling the streets, surrounding her and their captain, who now lay in pieces.
The redhead finds their wide, amused grins odd.
Pain electrocutes her side as something sharp rushes into her skin, just under her ribs. She yelps, caught off guard, and steps away, sword pulling out of her side. Aurora presses the palm of her hand to the gushing wound, gritting her teeth as she identifies the source of her injury.
Her eyes widen. The clown she had just previously cut in two is still very much alive. His top and bottom halves are still disconnected, where she had cut him, but his legs stand, and his torso floats before her eyes.
She grinds her teeth together in realization. Devil fruit.
He laughs maniacally, as if he just heard the best joke in the world. "Gotcha, girl! Now, you die!"
His upper half flies straight at her, sword covered in her blood, at the ready. She somersaults to the left, barely missing the swing of his blade as it cuts through the air where her head was only moments ago. She continues to evade his attacks, looking for an opening. Her sharp blades are useless in a fight like this, where her opponent can take himself apart and put himself back together again. She uses her karambits to parry the clown's blade, keeping him at arm's length.
The pirate scowls, though he also couldn't help but be impressed by the girl's resilience. Despite the wound in her side and the blood pouring profusely, she still fights as if it's nothing. She doesn't even show that she's in pain on her face—the same cool expression she gave him in the tavern still in place. This girl is strong, he can't help but think as he disconnects his other hand, aiming for her thigh in a sneak attack.
She groans at the impact, hissing between clenched teeth. Instead of stepping away, she bows down to her knee, flinching. The clown rips the blade out of her skin, and there's a tense moment where no one moves, no one speaks.
Finally, the pirate captain, as he stares haughtily down at her, demands, "Tell me your name, girl."
Still, she doesn't. Rather, she swipes at him once more, her karambit slicing through his head. He narrows his eyes and slams the butt of his sword against the back of her head hard. She blinks against the blackness and stabs into his chest. He hits her again, this time harder.
She goes down, her face landing on the hard cobblestone. Aurora tries to fight against the shadows growing at the edges of her vision. She breathes in deeply and swings her arm out, not hitting the clown.
But the clown is pushed into the building next to them nonetheless, leaving an impression behind as he falls to the ground. The redhead smirks victoriously before she falls unconscious.
The next time Aurora wakes, she is surprised that she woke up at all. The last thing that she had expected was to be alive. As she sits up, she notices the cold metal surface below her and the iron bars around her. She clenches her jaw at the sound of laughter, turning and glaring hatefully at the band of circus freaks. The captain is in the front, his grin wide and stretching across his face, smug at her predicament.
"Finally, you're awake!" He starts, walking closer to the cage, circling the iron prison. "No, I didn't kill you, that much is obvious. I have a proposition for you, girl." He stops in her line of sight, bending to be on eye level with her. "Join my crew!"
She raises a brow and gives him a sarcastic look. Aurora stays silent, waiting.
The clown falters in the wake of her silence, but just barely. He stands to his full height again and speaks once more. "I don't know how you did that earlier, but you would be a flashy addition to my ranks! Just think, girl, you could be a part of the Buggy Pirates and take over the East Blue with me!"
Buggy? Is that his name? Aurora stares over his shoulder, at the three men standing just behind Buggy.
The first man's head is shaved on one side, with streaks of lime green in his dark green hair. He is wiry, but muscles define his torso and thin arms. He wears a long blue and white checkered scarf, purple cloak, white pants, and boots. A light blue sash keeps his white pants in place.
The second man has a rectangular head, covered in stark white hair, with round ears on top. His human ears stick out from the sides of his head. He wears a white vest of fur over his chest, leaving his midriff exposed. A black sash holds his blue pants in place, and white fur shoes cover his feet.
The third man is also thin, but much taller than the other two—even taller than Buggy himself. His hair is cropped short and gelled into spikes, a shade of very shocking neon pink. His skin is blindingly white, with two blue triangles painted under his eyes and red lips. He wears an orange polka-dotted buttoned shirt, of which he leaves unbuttoned, leaving his torso exposed. His legs are covered in green-striped pants, and his feet are in red oversized shoes.
Just behind them are more colorfully clothed weirdos.
There isn't enough beri in the world to make me join up with this freakshow, she thinks, her eyes slowly moving upwards to the blue, blue sky.
How the hell do I get myself into these situations?
Long time, no see, huh?
A really long time.
A lot has definitely changed since the last time I even attempted writing this story. I've graduated college, took care of my bedridden grandma (until her death), got a job, bought a house, got really into pottery—I am not the same person I was when I started this, but I am excited to start anew. I hope you guys are as well.
Catch ya on the flip side!