Chapter 5

[William Pew]

It took a whole day for them to somewhat get things under control. Antonio had managed to get everyone working on keeping the ship moving, thankfully. Sure, things were a little… tight with the giant – Stansen, his name turned out to be – on board, but the ship was thankfully big enough… if barely. Their mink navigator was good too, or at least seemed to be as far as Willaim was concerned. They hadn't had too much trouble with the usual Paradise crazy weather, so he counted that as a show of skill in Antonio's favor.

Once things calmed down the smallest bit though… Came the problem with Mac, the surviving brother. They couldn't very well keep the truth from him once Wally had stabilized him – which the man had turned out to be surprisingly good at – and so William had had to tell him. The following hour or so had been… harsh.

He wasn't a people person though, or, at least, he wasn't a group person. He'd set out alone to try and find the secrets his father had left to chase. He'd had to travel in ships with others, of course, because traveling alone through the Grand Line was suicide. Even then he'd stayed mostly as an outsider looking in on other groups that hired him or that he hired. He had never been part of one of those before.

And now, all of a sudden, he was being placed as the leader of this ragtag gathering of ex-slaves for some reason. To make matters worse, he'd given the order that had led to two of them dying. One of them had a surviving brother that was mourning his loss and William… William didn't know what to do, other than feel guilty.

Could he have given a better order? Could he have come up with a better plan? Should he have joined that attacking team? Would that have made a difference? Would that at least have left him feeling less useless?

Ultimately, it didn't matter. He sat there, in the medical bay, as Mac cried his heart out, babbling, cursing the world, reminiscing of old times with his brother, and everything in between. It was long hours before the man completely calmed down, and even then he would have an emotional moment at the slightest of prompts. Still, William took it all, because it was the least he could do, after the part he played in Mic's death.

Eventually, Wally proved to have another skill that they were in need of, and that was tailoring. Then again, he was much better than the task at hand really required, but that wasn't a bad thing at all. It was, however, a very solemn duty, the one he had, and he took to it without saying much.

And that was sewing the dead in sailcloth.

It was the second day at sea when they held the funeral for the two of them. Mic, and a man that none of them knew the name of, regrettably. They gathered on the deck, and even Karen, the maid who clearly hated his guts – and probably everyone else's, if her attitude was anything to go by –, stood there. William wasn't very sure where they were, but he knew where the dead were and where Mac was.

Willaim could guess that Antonio had perched himself on top of Stansen's shoulder though. The mink seemed to have decided that was his favorite spot given how he took every opportunity to get there. It was probably a cat thing, he supposed.

The remaining brother had just finished giving Mic his last goodbye, still sobbing quietly to the side. William, for his part, took a step forward and slowly placed his hands behind the two he was there to send away. It was his duty as the captain to do so, after all.

William thought it was tragic, on both accounts. One was a brother that would be missed and that left a hole in someone's life. The other man might be too, but none of them knew. Somehow, that hit William harder. How many times could he have died somewhere while traveling and nobody would have known anything about him?

And now he was in charge of both men's funerals.

He didn't like it. He didn't like being captain, at all. He didn't like having to think for other people. He didn't like that people expected things from him. He didn't like being responsible for other people… But they had chosen him, for whatever reason, and he didn't want to tell them no. If they trusted him with that power, then he'd do what he could. It wasn't like he could do much else, in the condition he was in.

"You were both brave. Warriors of the sea that died too early, but warriors of the sea all the same, fighting for your freedom, your dreams," he said softly to the dead. "You died free and nobody can take that away from you now. You chose to stand and fight, instead of cowering in a cell like the world wanted you to, because you were stronger than most. You died showing the world that it couldn't chain you down. I hope you can find peace knowing that," William paused then, wondering if that was good enough. It was the best he could come up with for two people that he had barely known and still managed to affect him in such ways. "You are both free, now and forever," he finished then, taking a deep breath in before pushing the two off the ship, into the ocean.

Behind him, he heard Mac choke a sob, or maybe a wail.

"Thank-Thank you for that, captain," the man said.

"I meant every word," William said simply, walking slowly but firmly towards the man and bringing a hand up to the man's shoulder. He missed by a bit, but giving him a pat on his arm was good enough, he supposed. He wasn't even lying. He had meant all that. His speech might have been lacking, but at least he'd been earnest. "Your brother was a warrior of the sea, Mac, and you should be proud of that."

"I am," the man said wetly and William heard him gulp loudly. "I am," he repeated, his voice lower, barely above a whisper.

[}-o-{]

[Mac]

The women were the first to leave, actually. Particularly the maid, from what Mac half heard. Flags and Stansen went after that, because they needed to keep the ship going. The pirate captains followed soon after, citing the same reason. The rest of the civilians left a few minutes later.

And so it was just Mac and the Captain that were left eventually.

"He'd have been really happy," he said after a long period of silence, making the blind man tilt his head towards him. "He'd have been really happy to have someone call him a warrior of the sea. He was childish like that," Mac commented, balling his hands into fists before relaxing then again as his eyes stung.

"... The notion is childish," the Captain said after a moment. "Something we are all told as children, a tale for before sleep. It's not a childish dream to have, however, a childish thing to aspire to. Warriors of the sea are brave, free, and determined. We all should want to be like that."

"He'd have liked you," Mac commented, a sad smile on his face.

"I think I'd have liked him," the Captain replied in kind.

Then Mac paused, his shoulders dropping.

"... It should have been me," he said. He saw, from the corner of his eye, the Captain going to say something, but he didn't let him. "I was the older brother. I was the one that was supposed to protect him… But he protected me in the end. He's dead because of me. He put himself on the way. I saw."

"Brothers protect each other, regardless of who's older or younger," the Captain told him. "If it had been you, he'd have felt the same way you are."

"I should have been stronger though. I knew he was a little shit and he'd get us in trouble, and he did… I should have been ready. If I had been, we wouldn't have gotten caught. We wouldn't have been there."

"What ifs are a poison. Don't let them into your mind, or they'll only grow worse," the Captain said, taking a deep breath in and straightening from where he'd been leaning on the railing. "You say your brother gave his life to protect yours. Honor that, living the life he'd have wanted you to live."

"... I don't know what to do," Mac admitted, his voice more of a pathetic whimper than anything else, to his shame. "We did everything together. We lived with each other, we lived for each other. It was always Mic and Mac, never… just Mac," he said, feeling weak and heavy.

"I can't tell you how to live your life," the Captain admitted, walking towards Mac until he was standing next to him. "But I can tell you that most people don't know what they are doing either, what they should do. Life is about searching for that something and then holding onto it. That's what I believe."

"Maybe you are right," Mac replied, considering that. "... Do you… Have you found that?"

"... I thought I had, but now… I don't think so. We are both searching, I guess," the Captain told him.

"... I see."

[}-o-{]

[Pascia]

"Who do they even think they are?!" she heard Karen hiss, barely keeping her voice down. "They come in and start giving orders like they own the damn place and we should be grateful or something."

"I mean… It wasn't quite like that?" Rufus commented, drawing a glare from the maid that had him cowering instantly. "The-The blind guy d-did set us free?" he asked then more than stated as he raised his hands placatingly, eyes wide and face pale.

"So what? He did nothing after that anyway. He was a burden at most!" Karen continued disparagingly. "And don't even get me started on the little shit of a furball."

"Mister Flags helped a lot with the fighting," Pascia pointed out, somehow managing to put some strength behind her voice and all. She'd been very shaken ever since she'd been captured as a slave. She didn't have any delusions about what her future would be like once she was sold, after all, and that had weighed on her ever since…

And now she was free, and some of the main reasons for that was that Mister Flags had fought to get them out of the Auction House and that Mister Pew had freed them from their shackles. Mister Flags especially, since he'd fought so much, such hard battles too. If anyone deserved some credit, it was him, Pascia felt.

As for the blind man, she was sort of ambivalent in regards to him, if she were being honest. It wasn't like she wasn't grateful for his help, but she couldn't help but worry if he wasn't going to drag their group down. Still, leaving him back there after all his help would have been the wrong thing to do.

"I just don't get why everyone is listening to them! That guy even called the blind freak captain as if we were in a crew or something. We are not! I'm not! I'll find a way back home. Lord Matthew must be looking everywhere for me," she exclaimed, going from a hissing screech to a loving tone with such suddenness that it almost gave Pascia whiplash.

"They did get us away from Sabaody," Rufus said, flinching away when Karen directed yet another glare his way. "I-I mean, there were marines everywhere. I don't think we would have gotten away otherwise."

"We didn't even need to fight the Marines! We are innocent people. They are the criminals that had to fight their way out. I'm sure they'd have realized that it was all a mistake that we were there! Now look at us! We are likely being charged with their crimes because they dragged us along with them. They attacked officers of the law!" Karen protested. A hint of worry broke through her anger as she realized that she might be imprisoned for being part of the attack against the marines back at the auction.

Pascia personally disagreed. Nobody had seemed even remotely interested in checking if they deserved to be there or not. There'd even been marines involved… Pascia remembered begging them, with some other people, to let them out. She'd just been a dancer like any other, she didn't get in trouble or anything. She had just been visiting Sabaody for a show and then, suddenly, she had been too beautiful, too good at dancing, for her own good.

The worst part was that she hadn't even realized. Pascia had just been having a good time with friends and other dancers and then… Then things started spiraling until she was in a cell, with a bomb on her neck. She would never be able to look at a game of cards the same way again, she was sure…

And there was Karen saying… Then again, Karen had been a fairly new addition so…

"They'll see. I won't just roll over and let them do whatever they want," Karen muttered before stomping out of the room. Once she was gone, Pascia traded a look with Rufus before they both shrugged.

"I honestly don't care… Besides, the cat looks like he'd cut us all in half," the man commented with a nervous chuckle. "Not much point on complaining with people like that, right?"

"I know, right? Isn't he amazing? He looked so dashing fighting, like a fairy tale knight," she said excitedly, grinning widely, very glad for the change in topic. Her mood had kind of… dropped there, but it was nice to talk about something… happier.

"Um, that's… uh, certainly a way to see it," Rufus said, a little weirded out. Pascia idly wondered why that could be.

[}-o-{]

[Valtteri]

"I still can't believe this is real," he heard Byron comment, making him turn to the side and look at his fellow… ex-captain. The sandy-haired man was currently rubbing his neck, as if half expecting to feel the bomb collar around it. Valtteri could relate to that. During that very morning, he'd woken up confused because he didn't feel shackles around his limbs.

Instead, he was free, sailing on a ship once more.

"'Ou' 'ot 'e on'y one," Lacuba, the tongueless ex-captain, replied. Valtteri wondered if they'd improvised a reunion of characters with similar pasts. Then again, they were the only ex-pirates at all, while most others were ex-civilians and common criminals, for the most part. Either that or they just didn't know the background of, like with William and Antonio.

"Do you think it'll last though?" Byron asked, and wasn't that the question that Valtteri would like the answer to too? It was great to be outside at sea, with the wind in his hair and the waves on the horizon but… If it was all momentary, only to be caught again, then he didn't know what he'd do. All because he'd thought he was ready for the Grand Line.

He'd been a fool.

"William seems to know what he's doing so far," Valtteri pointed out. The blind man, despite his disability, had proven to have a good head on his shoulders, if nothing else. That could be as useful as being able to use a weapon right, really. And while he was reluctant to admit it, Valtteri didn't know how much brains the rest of the "crew" had, including himself. He'd once thought he was smart, but that was before the first part of the Grand Line showed him that he was, instead, an idiot. "And the furball is not bad, I guess," he added, because he could admit that those two were the ones leading the team, as it were.

Much as he didn't like Antonio.

Nothing personal with the little cat that walked on two legs, but Valtteri's crew had been taken down by a mink and it certainly hadn't been a nice experience. That damn polar bear didn't even need the help of his captain or the rest of his crew. It practically toyed with him from the start, the piece of shit.

It had left a bad impression by itself, but now he was slapped on the face by yet another mink that left him feeling like a common grunt instead of an ex-pirate captain. It really hurt his pride, if nothing else.

"Pretty sure Antonio saved our lives… more than once, especially while we were getting this ship," Byron said, looking very offended on the mink's behalf. Valtteri didn't reply to that, because anything he said would likely make things worse and he didn't feel like causing a fight on the first days of their improvised crew. Especially so because there seemed to be enough trouble brewing on other sides. "And William is not that bad, I guess," the blond man added, almost like an afterthought, unsure. Well, it seemed that while Valtteri didn't like Antonio, Byron didn't like their default captain.

He didn't know why though, because William had done pretty well so far, and… Valtteri couldn't imagine Byron was eager to get back on the captain spot. If he'd been in that Auction House, then it was likely that he'd been hit with the humble stick too. The stars knew Valtteri didn't want to be captain again after what had happened to his last crew, even if he hadn't been particularly close with any of them.

"You don't like him, huh?" Valtteri felt like pointing out, drawing a grimace from Byron that all but confirmed his suspicions.

"'Onna 'oin 'e mai'?" Lacuba asked, raising an eyebrow at him and Valtteri snorted.

"That woman is gonna get herself killed," he said with a chuckle. Because seriously, what did the maid think was gonna happen if she antagonized both of the people that kept them afloat? One of them who had been the one to free them of their shackles and make the plan to get them away from Sabaody. The other who seemed about to beat up just about anyone, even while weakened by the slave treatment they'd all gotten.

"You guys heard too, huh? I figured," Byron commented dryly. "She wasn't what one would call quiet."

"That's a very polite way of saying she was loud as fuck," Valtteri pointed out, drawing a snort from both men. "But yes, I don't know what her deal is."

"'E' a 'ivi'ian," Lacuba replied and he had to take a moment to figure out what the man had said. Eventually, he did though, and he had to concede the point. civilians just didn't know quite as much about how the world worked as they liked to. They just went about their lives doing what they were told and believing in the Marines to deliver "justice" and shit like that. Delusional fucks.

"Fair enough, big guy, fair enough," Byron replied with a shake of his head. "I guess we'll have to watch out. Don't want to get smacked with a broom. Or worse, a duster."

[}-o-{]

[Wallace]

He'd always known that the things his father and mother taught him would be useful growing up. He might not have enjoyed helping his father at the hospital and he'd been especially ungrateful when his mother taught him to sew. As he grew up though, Wally had come to appreciate those things. They were useful, even if they weren't great gifts. They were certainly better than the debt his uncle had buried them in.

Those were certainly better times than what had come after, as they struggled to pay off debt, even with both his parents working themselves to the bone and him trying his best to help them. That period of his life might as well have been a dream. One that was soon followed by an increasingly bad nightmare.

Even when they were so close… so very close to being over that…

There he'd ended up, Wallace, the Slave. His hand trembled, holding the needle in his hand. For a second, he was back there, in his cell, with a collar and shackles. He was starving, weak, fearful, and useless…

But he wasn't.

He was on a ship and he was free and he was useful. He'd treated Mac. He'd helped sew Mic and the blond man in sailcloth. He was sewing a new flag, because their ship needed to arrive at their destination and not be recognized as the one it actually was. William's idea. He'd pulled Wally and Stansen aside to talk to them about doing some changes to the ship, the flag, maybe even the sails.

Smart, which was why Wally imagined everyone had been following the man's calls despite his condition. He wasn't sure why some of his peers seemed to dislike the man, but people could be weird like that. 'Focus… focus…' he told himself, like he'd done when he was learning and he didn't want to put a needle through his finger… again.

And then he started working. He wasn't a fighter, like the pirates and all. He wasn't a planner, like William. He wasn't big like Stansen. He wasn't fast like Valtteri. Nor was he skilled like Antonio. But Wally had his own strong points, because nobody could sew like he could, nor could they treat wounds like he could.

So, he would do what he could and he'd help where he could, so that they could all get somewhere, get away from a shitty situation. Just like he'd helped his parents, just like the others had helped him get away from the Auction House. He'd pay them back by doing what he could. And once they arrived somewhere…

Wally didn't know what he'd do.

He remembered then, the way things had ended. His mother's final words. His father's cries. He remembered the fire and the punches and the shackles and the hunger and the helplessness.

His hands tightened.

Wally took a deep breath in as he looked out towards the sea, its waves, and its vastness. He was free… A free man once again. He was also a man that had nothing now. He was free, but there was nowhere to go back to. 'Focus… focus…' he repeated, letting his mind do just that, on his work instead of memories and insecurities.

He looked at the previous flag of the ship and thought of William's idea for a new one. The blind man couldn't really do more than give as detailed a description as he could, but it'd have to be enough. Wally could work with that much. He'd seen some flags before too, so he had some idea of what he should do. He just needed to do well, he just needed to focus.

So, he took a deep breath in, like his father taught him, let it out, relaxed his shoulders… And got to work. Slowly, carefully, but he did. There was no rush, since they'd be traveling through the Grand Line for a while, but the work had to be good. Good enough to fool people that knew what was what.

Wally would do it though. If nothing else, he'd do it for his fellow escapees, so that they would all stay free, away from the hole they had all crawled out of. He'd do it for the two men that had died in their escape.

And if he did it right, maybe he'd feel a little less empty inside. Maybe then, he'd feel like there was something to his life other than the bleakness of the past. Maybe then, he would be able to stop living in memories and have something to anchor him to the present.

Wally could only hope.

'Focus… focus…' he repeated once more and, for a moment, he could almost forget.

[} Chapter End {]

Adrian: Well, everyone's having a great time, huh?

Arc: Indeed they are almost not traumatized! Also, fun fact, we actually rolled for each of the "crew members" opinions on Antonio and Will. You can guess the results for most of them. It was interesting how different some of the rolls were.

Adrian: Interesting is one word for it, sure. Anyway, we hope that you enjoyed the chapter.

Discord Link: discord .gg/UTDransjJZ