Chapter 4: I Still Feel Attached

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Snake eyes always on my tail
Snake eyes always up ahead
Shawn James, ' Snake Eyes '

Aurora drifts in and out of sleep, sun warm against her skin. She lets her feet hang over the side of the boat, the sea lapping gently at her toes. The weather is perfect for days like these. She smiles contentedly, not a care in the world. She still had three days worth of food (five if she rationed it correctly).

Though, judging by the birds flying above her, it wouldn't be long before she reaches some sort of land. She hopes it'll be an island with a village so she could work for a little more money. The people of Orange Town tried to give her supplies for free, as a thanks for helping get rid of Buggy and his gang, but taking their resources when they were already down didn't feel right.

So, she left all the beri that she had behind, stuck in the mayor's pocket without his knowledge.

She squashes the voice that whispers maybe you should have just kept a few bills, because no, that didn't feel right. Especially not when they had given her so much more.

Aurora spends most of her day drifting lazily on, letting the sea decide her destination. The sun was beginning to set when she noticed a… ship? The redhead sits up, eyes squinting. It was, indeed, a ship, but it was a ship she had never seen before.

It was massive, practically a gallion, with three levels. It was teal with an orange roof and hull. A fish with its mouth open, as if gulping for air, was the figurehead. The striped sails were up, smoke billowing from the chimney on top. Amazingly enough, it had a small harbor for smaller ships without anchors to tie to.

"A restaurant on the sea?" She couldn't help asking herself aloud. Aurora had seen many strange things, especially on the Grand Line, so a restaurant on the sea wasn't the strangest—she just hadn't seen it done before. "Baratie?" She tries, but knows she isn't saying it right.

Her stomach growls at that moment and her mouth waters at the smell of food wafting through the air. It wasn't a village, but she can't help but wonder do they need a dishwasher?

She grabs her oars and paddles towards the Baratie, hooking her rope to one of the metal hooks on the harbor's edge. She puts her knapsack up, locking it away in the little hut, before maneuvering off the boat. The young woman approaches the entrance and opens the door, where a hostess greets her immediately.

"Welcome to the Baratie, how many?" He asks, not even sparing a glance at her rundown appearance.

"One, please." He leads her through the restaurant, her eyes taking everything in. It was a fancy restaurant, with white dishes and even whiter tablecloths. Round tables and booths were strategically placed to give room to guests and waitstaff as they move about.

He takes her to a lone table, one that was placed in the back. She smiles, appreciative, as she unhooks her sword from her back, leaning it against the wall beside her chair as she sits down.

"Your waiter will be right with you, miss." He saunters off, back to his podium at the door.

Topaz eyes start roaming over the menu he placed on the table, deciding on the most expensive thing. She taps her finger lightly on the table, trying to stave off her growing impatience. Aurora looks up from the menu, glancing at the other patrons in their expensive suits and long evening gowns. It took her to another time where she wore her own gown made of night, glittering starlight sewn into the fabric, wild red hair silky and braided intricately to show the expanse of her neck, collarbone and chest. The piercings in her ears and septum were not yet present.

She snaps back to the present as soon as her waiter appears.

"Chateaubriand, medium rare."

"And what would the Miss prefer to drink?"

"A Bordeaux, if you would."

"Anything specific?"

She smiles, showcasing pearly whites as she leans her chin against her hand. "Surprise me."

He nods, retrieves the menu, and hustles towards the kitchen to relay her order. Aurora watches him go up the stairs and disappear through a pair of doors on the second level.

Her gaze falls from the doors, flutters over the crowd before landing on the window beside her. The sea stretches out before her, never-ending; forever. Even now, as she sits inside this restaurant on the ocean, the water calls to her. Her leg begins to shake and she crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her cushioned chair. She tries to ignore the burning sensation of eyes boring into her, tries to drown out the whispers of scoundrel, there's no doubt about it—she looks like trouble—you see the state of her hair?—they shouldn't have let such a sightly thing in here .

Doesn't matter, she tells herself, letting their comments and glares roll off of her, like water on a duck's back.

Her waiter appears not long after with her wine. "Your food will be out shortly, miss."

Aurora tips her glass in his direction as a reply. When he leaves, she sips at the dark alcohol, nose scrunching. Wine was never her favorite.

True to his word, the food arrives shortly after her wine and she gives a toothy smile, thanking him. She marvels at the tenderness, the beef practically melting in her mouth. She chews slowly, taking her time to enjoy each bite. She sips at her wine, and despite her earlier disagreement with the alcohol, she couldn't deny how well the meal and drink paired together. Slathering as much sauce onto her last piece as she could, Aurora closes her eyes, losing herself to the flavors, trying to pinpoint what it was exactly she was tasting.

She drinks the last of her wine when she swallows the last bite, sighing contentedly.

"I do hope you enjoyed your meal, miss? Are you interested in dessert?"

The redhead tilts her head, smirking. "What would you recommend?"

He smiles. "If you prefer pastries, then the Île Flottante might be perfect—"

"What's your favorite, sir?" His mouth opens and closes at the question, seemingly at a loss for words. The redhead's grin just widens at his guppy look. "The wine you chose was delicious, so I have no choice but to trust your taste. Bring me your favorite dessert." She waves a hand, dismissing him.

"Uh, yes, m-miss." He disappears and comes back with poached pears with chocolate sauce and vanilla ice cream. "Poire Belle Hélène, miss."

He sets the small plate in front of her and awaits her reaction as she takes a piece of pear with chocolate and ice cream—a perfect bite—and sets it in her mouth. Her expression is cool as she looks at him. He opens his mouth to say something, but she beats him to it, "I need to speak to whoever's in charge."

The waiter's back breaks out into a cold sweat as his shoulders tense. His bottom lip tucks under his top and he nods obediently. With a "yes, miss" he scurries away. Aurora continues to eat the dessert, licking her spoon clean of the chocolate sauce as a man in a luxurious suit appears at her side.

"I heard you were in the East," he murmurs as she looks up at him, a brow rising to meet the edge of her hair, "but I didn't think I'd ever see it with my own eyes. I certainly didn't think I'd be the one to bring you in." In a flash, he reveals a revolver, beautifully engraved with a floral design and points it to her chest. "So, what do you say, Redrum? Wanna come along quietly?" He cocks the revolver and it clicks menacingly. "Or is it gonna be a fight?"

She sighs, standing slowly. "You know, I really do hate that name…" the grip on the back of her chair tightens and she swings it at the man, hitting him with it. The chair breaks from the force of the hit and the man yelps out in pain and surprise.

When he recovers, he spits out, "Dirty trick!"

She grabs the barrel of his revolver, aiming it downward while her free hand sails towards his nose. There's a crunch beneath her knuckles and she grins in satisfaction.

"You broke my nose… you BITCH!"

The man finally gains his bearings and wrenches his revolver free from her grasp, aiming it and shooting. She runs, bullets missing her by a hair, shooting through the wall behind her instead. She grabs a small table and uses it as a shield to block his vision of her, giving her enough time to map out a plan of attack and to end this as quickly as possible.

The revolver clicks, signaling its empty cylinder. Aurora handles the leg of the table and advances on the man when he pauses to reload. She slams into him, pinning him to the wall. Patrons around them scream and the sounds of pounding feet fill the air, but the two barely notice in their struggle to overpower the other.

He had managed to put a hand between his body and the table, and he pushes against her to give him enough space to slip to the side, revolver cocking. He shoots, and the bullet grazes her side. Biting her tongue, Aurora throws the table at his head. He ducks in time, but in his distraction, the redhead had pulled out her own weapon.

The black claymore catches the bright lights overhead, glinting beautifully. She slashes at his head, but he flattens onto his back in time, the sharp blade sailing over harmlessly. Beads of sweat race down his forehead as he rushes to his feet, jumping away from a series of stabs and swings of her claymore. He brings his revolver up, lining it up to her chest, and shoots. The bullet flies through the air, path true.

Aurora brings her claymore up, blade adjacent to her body, and when the bullet meets the sword, it divides in two. The halves are sent to the side, barely raking the stray strands of her hair. The sword spins in her grip, she charges forward, almost disappearing from sight as she suddenly appears in front of him, claymore piercing through the space between his ribs.

A shaky gasp seeps out of him, the sickly sweet smell of brandy hitting her in the face.

"You'll live," Aurora whispers low to him, orange eyes dark, "if you want, of course." She pulls the sword from him, backing away. Without the support, the man falls to the ground, blood pooling around his body. "What's your name?" She asks, bending to look into his dulling gaze.

He gasps and breathes, "Percival Colt."

It sounds familiar. "Bounty hunter?" He nods.

"Drop the sword!"

Aurora looks to the side, eyeing the man with the extra tall toque. His mustache is long and braided, and a blond goatee grows from his chin. He wears a chef's uniform, with a white shirt and apron to match. There's a blue ascot around his neck to bring the look together. Instead of a matching pair of legs, his right leg was in the form of a glorified wooden stick. Two other chefs stand behind him, holding their own rifles.

Glancing around, she notices that the other patrons have retreated, employees trying to usher them outside.

Shit. Aurora stands, raising a free hand to show she means no harm—well, not to them, at least. "I know what it looks like, but trust that I was minding my own business when he put a gun in my face."

"Like I would trust a pirate," the mustached man scoffs.

Aurora scowls and wipes the blood from her claymore on her pants. "I'm not a pirate, Methuselah." She sheathes the long blade.

"I don't care what you're not. Fighting is prohibited here at the Baratie." He looks at the man on the floor, at the blood soaking the stone and his glare intensifies. "Lyle, Garen, take him and get his wounds taken care of."

"Aye, sir!" The two chefs by his side pick the injured man up and carry him up the stairs.

Aurora keeps a wary eye on the older chef, unsure of his course of action. She grips the hilt of her claymore, readying herself for what might happen.

He turns his glare onto her. "Don't," he growls. Her jaw tightens and she loosens her grip on her sword. "You'll have to pay for the damage and clean the mess you made, girl."

Her jaw drops. "I'm sorry, excuse me? I'm not the one who shot holes in your wall! You can't blame that on me!"

"Aye, but you destroyed a chair and a table—"

"A collaborative effort."

"Then there's the matter of payment for your meal and wine."

"Yeah, that's why I asked to speak with you," she admits, hands stuffing themselves into the pockets of her trousers. At the raising brow he was giving her, she continues. "I don't have any money to pay for my meal or for any of the damages that occurred during the… scuffle."

Silence reigns as the two stare at each other. The head chef's brows narrow and his frown deepens. "That so? Then you're going to have to work to pay back the food and drink you had, as well as all these damages you caused."

"Will that bounty hunter also have to pay, or are you just taking your frustrations out on me, geezer?" Really, she didn't mind having to work to pay back her food—she had already planned on it before she stepped foot on the Baratie. Hell, she was even wanting to stay on as a dishwasher (or whatever) for as long as he was willing to have her (well, until she decided it was time to move on once more), but now all she wanted to do was to leave this stupid restaurant behind, bills be damned.

She gives the man a dirty look when there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "If I were you, I would be more worried about myself."

Aurora winces, putting a hand to her side, her hand coming back with blood. She can feel where the bullet brushed her side now, the burning sensation of the hot metal searing through the skin.

"Follow me, brat," the old chef mutters, leading her up the stairs and into the infirmary.

Aurora purses her lips at the sight of the bounty hunter, Percival she reminds herself, as he walks out of the Baratie's doors. She watches from the second floor as he's able to walk away scot free—well, perhaps not scot free. He, in fact, did have to pay his half of the damages; he just happened to have the money on him to pay at that moment.

It had been two days since their tussle, and he lived, just as Aurora had said. During that time, he had been resting and being taken care of while Aurora had been put to work by Zeff the moment her two stitches were secured.

Percival Colt, she remembers now, was a pretty well known bounty hunter based here in the East Blue, known for capturing and subduing his prey alive to then hand them over to the Marines, pretty bow and all. He had been responsible for the capture of Sarai the Glutton, captain of the Marble pirates, a few months ago. Sarai had been executed just a few days prior.

Aurora can't help glaring down at the bounty hunter as he turns to look up at her. The cooks had to make a supply run for the rest of the week and that was when Zeff kicked Percival Colt out of the infirmary, forcing him off of the Baratie. She thanks her gods for the little mercies; at least she wouldn't have to deal with him while working.

Percival holds his hand up, two fingers and his thumb, imitating a gun. He aims his fingers at her and cocks his thumb, as if sliding the hammer down. Gotcha, he mouths, smirking, before hopping into the small boat.

Aurora's frown deepens. So much for sparing your life. "Ungrateful bastard."

"What're you doing?" She jerks at the voice, looking over her shoulder at Zeff approaching her. "Get back to work, brat."

"Sod off, I'm on break," she huffs, looking back out towards the ocean. She hears the thump of his peg leg hit the surface as he settles beside her.

"Bounty hunters," he hums as he watches Percival and his cooks grow smaller. "Causing trouble wherever they go."

The redhead smirks, remembering a certain green haired pirate hunter she encountered months ago. The trouble they caused in that bar… was far beyond what happened between Percival and her.

The karambits twirled in her grasp. "Don't make me kill a bounty hunter," she tsk'd.

"I'd like to see you try," he snapped. Two katanas are raised and ready; the white one stayed sheathed at his side.

He lunged, and she dodged, kicking a chair in his direction. He slashed it, pieces falling to the ground in a heap. She met him with her own (albeit smaller) blades, sparks flying. The smell of musk and steel hit her face, tinged with the saké he inhaled. He looked at her with a predator's smile; smug and lustful for blood.

He was strong as he leaned against the steel of his blades. She shifted her stance to account for the extra weight, arms locked.

"So, got a third arm I'm not aware of?" She asked, grinning at his furrowed brow. "I guess I'm just confused about how you handle three swords, is all. I hear you fight with all three at the same time."

He chuckled. "Maybe if you're good, I'll show ya."

Oh please. Aurora rolled her eyes. She shoved against his katanas, catching them both in one curved blade and bringing them downward. Her other karambit sailed through the air, aimed for his neck. He broke free and did a spinning kick, knocking her into a table. She landed on the surface, barely able to block his attack.

Again, they were locked, katanas and karambits. This time though, he was above her, shifting all of his weight into his upper body. She planted her feet on his thighs and propelled him over her head. She followed, backflipping off the table and turning as soon as he struck. She blocked him.

They took a step back, both out of breath.

Damn, he's tough. She breathed deep through her mouth and released it through her nose slowly. She was starting to get excited now. She grinned.

Aurora grabbed the table she had been forced upon just a moment ago and threw it at the samurai. Of course, he cut it, but it gave her the momentary distraction she needed. Making an X with her karambits, she charged her attack briefly. "Crimson Strike!" She swung her arms down, sending the burst of air towards him. He was able to roll to the side, getting out of its way in time.

But it still nicked him, red staining the sleeve of his shirt.

"Get ready," he said as he removed his white katana from its sheath and planted it in his mouth.

"That's kinda gross, don't you think?" She was… let down, to be honest. Aurora was kinda hoping the swordsman would have a third arm. Maybe a tail? That definitely would have been exciting. And another thing— "You have good mobility with it in your mouth like that?"

"Three-Sword Style," he spoke, voice clear, even with a sword hilt clenched between his teeth as he raised the two katanas in his hands, "Oni-Giri!" He stormed her with all three blades. In a blink, she was gone and Roronoa slashed through nothing.

She appeared behind him. "Packed a little heat in that one, didn'tcha?"

He glared at her when he turned around. "How'd you move so fast?" He demanded, voice a low growl. She grinned, making the motion of zipping her mouth, locking it, and throwing away the key.

The redhead engaged him again, blades against blades as they dealt and blocked quick swipes and swoops and swishes. They danced a dance uniquely to them, even if they were to meet other swordsmen in the future, no fight would ever be like this one. He was quick, and she was just as so. They matched each other, blow for blow each time.

It was exhilarating.

No fight in the East Blue could come close to this one; no feeling to what Aurora felt in this moment would ever be replicated.

Roronoa aimed for her neck. She caught the katana in the curve of her blade, forcing him off course. His other blade was also caught in her other, having intercepted a lethal swipe just a moment before. Both their arms were spread, middle exposed… and Roronoa still had a third sword.

Before he could make his move, Aurora invaded his space, forcing his arms back. She caged the blade between her teeth, locking it into place. She could feel Roronoa's eyes as they burned holes in the side of her head, and she looked back at him from the corner of her eye.

Their faces were close, almost cheek to cheek. She raised her brows.

"Let go," he commanded, and she hated being commanded to do anything.

In reply, she clenched her jaw tighter around the blade.

Roronoa growled and Aurora can tell that he's pissed. Perhaps in another life, if he weren't a starving man desperate for money and willing to take her head to the marines, Aurora wouldn't have minded their close proximity. Perhaps she would have leaned into it, make a game of it. If her father can have a rival who tracks him down from time to time to spar, why couldn't she?

She knew why as soon as another man's eyes appeared before her, phantom lips ghosting over the shell of her ear; low, harsh, biting whispers of demands leaking from his mouth and it's all Aurora can do to keep her resolve. Don't lose it now.

Roronoa threatened her freedom; willing to throw her bleeding to the sharks, ignorant and uncaring to what will happen to her. While the fight had scratched an itch she didn't even know she had, it was time to end this and leave; Irvendale was no longer safe.

"I suppose I can't pay for your drink?" She tried, but her words don't come out as clear as his around the blade.

"I think you already know the answer to that." His reply came so easily, so certain.

She hummed as she lifted her leg, knee connecting to the man's weakest niche. She lets go when he buckled, groaning out a "demon" towards her. Aurora sent the toe of her boot into his cheek and she wondered if she shattered it. His body careens to the side from the force, body colliding against the wall. Cracks appeared, but Aurora didn't pause for a second.

Karambits sheathed, she's free to gather the front of his shirt and lift him high above her head, throwing him down into the bar, crushing it.

Aurora huffed and waved her hand at the dust, impatient at it not clearing quick enough. "Berserker's Blow!" His eyes were wide when her fist turned black, and it's the last look he gave her before her fist connected with his temple. Aurora takes in the softened features of his unconscious face. "Sorry for playing dirty, samurai," she said against his pierced ear. Then she stood and looked around at the destroyed bar—she doubted whether a chair or table was left undamaged from their exchange and she pursed her lips.

She grabbed her journal that had fallen to the floor and left the beri for her drink on a section of the bar that was still standing. She argued with herself only for a moment, but she decided that this would be a more sincere apology to the bounty hunter, and money for his saké joined her own.

Aurora left the bar, stopped by the inn to grab her things, and departed from Irvendale.

Aurora lets her hair loose from its updo, sighing as her wild locks fall against her back and over her shoulders. She leans on the railing heavily, arms dangling, cheek sinking into the crook of her elbow. It was well past midnight and the moon had risen to its peak, the stars practically winking down at her. Another sigh escapes her.

"That key was the only way to get me outta here, Rory!"

Aurora pinches her eyes shut as Luffy's words echo through her mind, clanging against the iron gates of her mind.

"Go on, little one, don't be afraid. Say hello to your father."

"Aurora, huh? Well, what do you think of 'Rory'?"

"Now why do you hafta go and ruin a name like that, Shanks?!"

"Look at that smile! She loves it, Petra!"

Fuck. Aurora clenches a fist and knocks it against her forehead firmly. Fuck fuck fuck…

"Crew, meet Rory! Rory, meet everyone!" Cheers erupt and her father's nakama start to introduce themselves.

"Stubborn little thing, aren't you? I wonder where you get that from?" Shanks side eyes her mother, a smile threatening to burst forth.

Shanks caresses her chubby cheek softly. "My rising sun, my forever dawn." He nuzzles her hair, the same colored hair atop his own head.

"Are you alright?"

Aurora is torn from the onslaught of memories, head snapping in the direction of the question. Sanji approaches her, cigarette gripped tight between his teeth. He stands beside her, leaving a sizable distance between them, giving her the power to accept or reject his concern. He looks at her with a worried brow furrowed, one eye soft and kind. It's enough to make her sick to her stomach.

The redhead straightens, forearms adjacent to the railing, supporting the weight of her upper body. "Jus' tired," she replies easily, watching him with sharp eyes.

"That old bastard, I knew he was working you too hard—"

"I can handle myself just fine, thanks," she interrupts abruptly, standing to her full height.

She's just as tall as him, Sanji notices, with broad shoulders, arms tight with muscle. Part of a tattoo peeks from under the sleeve of her uniform. Her hands are large, with square calloused palms and long fingers. She wasn't the typical woman that visited the Baratie, Sanji knows, but she was still a woman, and that ancient relic pushed her too far. Not only was she ordered to clean the dishes, but she had to clean each station and swab the floors when she was finished. Sanji had just left Zeff's quarters, still furious from their argument over the redhead's treatment, when the blond saw her on the balcony, upper body practically hanging over the railing.

"How long do you think you'll stay?"

His sudden inquiry of her personal decision had her regarding him from head to toe. "Not sure," she answers, turning and leaning her back against the railing, head lulling back to stare at the yellow and white striped sails. "Probably a week, at the most. I'm not one to stay in place for too long."

He nods, tapping the ashes from his cigarette over the railing. "Is there a particular place you're trying to get to?"

"I'm just drifting," she answers truthfully, voice soft.

"By yourself?"

He seemed surprised. Aurora rolls her head to rest on her shoulder to look at him. "You see anyone else with me?"

He frowns. "And you don't think that's dangerous?"

She snorts. "Like I told you, loverboy, I can handle myself just fine."

Pink dust his cheeks at her smug grin, and there's a warmth in his belly at the way she looks at him through half lidded eyes. He clears his throat, trying to appear nonchalant. "I don't doubt that," he says quietly, more to himself than to her, but she still hears it.

"That Patty's wound pretty tight, yeah?" She asks when the silence falls too heavily.

He grins. "Talk about a short fuse. Just before you came, he beat some pirates' asses who didn't want to pay. He's also a shitty cook."

She chuckles. "Funny, he says the same about you."

Sanji's eye rolls. "Don't tell me you believe him."

She leans towards him, and he holds his breath. "So he's wrong, hm? Wanna prove it?"

Within the next minute the two were in the kitchen, Sanji rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands. "Any requests, belle rousse?"

"Hit me with your best shot, Don Juan."

Sanji's hands move in a blur of steel. There was a grace to Sanji that Aurora hadn't really noticed before; although, she hadn't seen him cook yet. His skills with a knife made her wonder why he wasn't a swordsman, especially the way his fingers maneuvered the blades so smoothly. His face was the ideal picture of calm, there was no urgency or panic—he was fully lost in the process of making.

Even if he was a terrible flirt, Aurora could still admire someone like him.

"A mango mousse for the mademoiselle."

He's finished in no time, setting the dessert plate in front of her. It certainly looks the part. Aurora takes the spoon he offers, fingers brushing with his. She doesn't react to the contact, digging the spoon into the dessert, but Sanji can't stop the shiver from going down his spine at the brush of her fingers. Her touch was soft, delicate, like that of a butterfly's.

The redhead practically melts in her seat at the first bite, closing her eyes and moaning in delight. She's eager to take another bite, but mourns as the dessert shrinks. When she's done, she takes her forefinger across the porcelain surface and rakes up what her spoon cannot get.

"That's the best fucking thing I've ever eaten," she murmurs, eyes connecting with Sanji's. "If I knew you could cook like this, I would have been nicer."

He simpers and wants so badly to gush over her words, but he knows that he couldn't be too forward lest he scares her. He covers his nose as his body temperature rises at the sight of Aurora wiping stray cream from her bottom lip, tongue peeking from her mouth to lick it off. She looks at him through red lashes and Sanji wills his body to not react.

Aurora raises a brow at Sanji's lack of reply, pushing off of the table and grabbing her dish and spoon. "You wanna eat lunch together tomorrow?" She asks as she washes the plate and silverware, glancing over her shoulder to gauge the young man's expression.

He lights up. "I'd love to!"

"Only if you make us something, though," she adds, grinning as she puts the ware away and starts walking out of the kitchen. "See ya tomorrow, loverboy." She puts a hand in the air and waves slightly.

Sanji exhales, almost dreamily when the door shuts. "Goodnight, chérie."

I couldn't help it... I felt so bad not updating on my usual schedule (╥﹏╥) But I do think that I'm going to start updating on Sundays now. I work as a teacher, and some days are harder than most when writing, and with how the kids have been acting here recently, its been pretty hectic. It feels like I haven't had the energy or time to write as much as I want.

Anyway, let me know how it was! I'm so excited to start deepening Aurora's relationship with our favorite loverboy, Sanji!