A/N: I told myself last year that I was going to participate in Heart Pirates Week this year, and by thunder I'm going to participate in Heart Pirates Week!

457 words; I know the rules state that entries should be safe for work, but I also know each workplace is different, so I will be listing different qualifiers for each one; today's warning includes references to Jean Bart's past, as we all know that is not sfw by any means; these are going to end up being short because I said so (and I need some things that are shorter bites to practice on); very much NOT beta-read holy shit pls I'm on a time crunch here

Heart Pirates Week 2024

Day One: Jean Bart - Cursed

The skin on his back crawled.

It had not done so in a while, to the point he nearly forgot the sensation. How long had it been…? Months, at least…

His skin feels like fire. No, like ants. Not quite—like flaming ants that are just beneath the burn that's centered on his back. He freezes in the middle of the town square, only for Clione and Bepo to stop walking as well.

"What's wrong?" the Mink asked. "You're acting strange."

"It's… there's something that's not right," he replied. The large man glanced around the square—it was no different than any other seafaring port they had frequented since he had joined under the Captain. Everything looked normal, and yet…

…oh.

"There's someone here," he said gravely. "There's someone like me."

"You sure about that, big guy?" Clione asked quietly. "How can you tell?"

"I simply can." Jean Bart moved his way through the crowd, using his scar as a guide; the more it itched, the closer he was. The trio eventually came to the entrance of an alleyway, where there was a figure hunched behind a stack of broken crates, back to the wall as they shivered in the Spring Island's autumn.

"No…" the figure said, shaking their head in a motion so shallow and quick they might as well have been merely shaking. "I can't go back."

"You won't," Jean Bart said firmly. He held out his hand and tried to put the most sobering face on he could. "We have the same curse, in the same place, I imagine."

"You… you were also…?" The figure leaned forward slightly, trying to get a look at good look at the trio. A scar ran down the side of their face, marring the skin so severely it looked like it had been extra branding, the scab tissue picked at and picked at until what remained was a gnarled mess. Was this a man…? For all the pirates could tell… though their voice dropped as they whispered, "a slave…?"

"I was a member of the Household of Saint Charlos," Jean Bart confirmed. The person's eyes went wide with hope. "I don't know how you found your way here, but I know where you can go where no collar waits."

"Where…?"

"With the man I will follow 'til my dying day: Captain Trafalgar Law. He does not care for curses and neither does the rest of the crew." Jean Bart stretched his hand out a bit further. "Welcome."

Was the Captain a little irritated that they came back from the market with what marked their eighteenth mouth to feed? Yes, just a little, but he also, really, truly, couldn't say no… not as long as they had the bunkspace.